

Class r 2 

Book 3 1 7 1 S 

Copyright N°_ 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 




















































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Satan of the 
Modern World 

E. GRATTAN DOYEN 

JjlJ 

jAn 

Jna*p|: 


BROADWAY 

PUBLISHING 

COMPANY 

NEW 

YORK 

1904 



.27 7/S 


LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

DEC IS 1904 

-Copyrignt Entry 
>&£*,/<?■ 

CLASS XAc. Noi 

COPY B. 


Copyrighted, 1904, 

BY 

EDWARD GRATTAN DOYEN. 


All Rights Reserved. 


TO THE UNKNOWN AUTHORS. 

That a prophet is without honor in his own 
country became evident to the great Nazarene as 
He approached once more the familiar scenes of 
His childhood, and mingled with those with whom 
He had grown to manhood. 

That an unknown writer, struggling for recog- 
nition is without honor among his friends and 
kindred, is as evident to-day as in far-off Palestine 
two thousand years ago. Sneers, ridicule, and 
every form of discouragement meet him, ever, but 
the kindly voice of sympathy is never heard. 

Ridicule marks the grave of more failures than 
any other cause known to humanity. It trans- 
forms the genius into a cynic, whose sneers, in 
turn, pave the way for the downfall of others. It 
drove Copernicus broken-hearted to the grave. It 
pursued Columbus with fury and hatred from 
clime to clime, and has driven thousands of noble 
men and women within the walls of a madhouse. 
So much will it do for all who lend to it a willing 
ear. 

Standing thus as I do to-day at the crossroads 
of life, an unknown writer, uncertain as to whether 
the near future will bring the morning of suc- 
cess or the evening of failure, with no kindly 
voice from out the past with echoing words of 

iii 


IV 


Dedication. 


sympathy and encouragement to greet the ear of 
memory, with no kindly friend whose name to 
inscribe herein, I dedicate to the unknown authors 
of the years to come the few fragments of thought 
contained within this volume as a token of the 
sympathy and encouragement of 

The Author. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


CHAPTER I. 

Maple Lawn 1 

CHAPTER II. 

An Ideal Farmer . . . . f 10 

CHAPTER III. 

The Light (Intellectual) that Failed 24 

CHAPTER IV. 

An Eventful Sunday 39 

CHAPTER V. 

Virginia Randolph 58 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Festival 78 

CHAPTER VII. 

Sowing the Seed 102 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Soil on which the Seed Fell 122 

CHAPTER IX. 

Behold! the Harvest is Great! 137 

CHAPTER X. 

A Vampire from the Past 154 

CHAPTER XI. 

A Noble Sacrifice for Truth 171 


vi Contents. 

PAGE 


CHAPTER XII. 

Satan of the Ancient World 197 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Satan of the Modern World 221 

CHAPTER XIV. 

The Old, Old Story — of Love 240 

CHAPTER XV. 

The National Convention 259 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Get thee behind me, Satan 267 

CHAPTER XVII. 

The Harvest is Over, the Summer is Ended 284 


SATAN OF THE MODERN WORLD. 


CHAPTER I. 

MAPLE LAWN. 

The village of Verne, situated on the western 
side of the Green Mountains and a little south of 
the central part of Vermont, was, at the beginning 
of our story, but a small and humble village with 
a population numbering between three and four 
hundred souls. The spot on which it was situated 
was one of great natural beauty, yet with the ex- 
ception of the buildings and here and there a 
very untidy flower garden, it remained practically 
as it had come from the hand of nature; nothing 
had ever been done to add in any way to the beau- 
ties so lavishly bestowed on the spot, for the inhab- 
itants, being of a very religious and domineering 
cast, cared more for the welfare of their souls and 
an imaginary world to come than for the charms 
and pleasures of the one in which they lived. 

There was but one church in the community, 
that of orthodox faith, and though members of 
many so-called denominations lived there, one 
house of worship was deemed sufficient for all pur- 
poses, and all united in its support. This church 
was a large, roomy edifice, wooden, weather-beaten 


2 


Satan of the Modern World. 


and spacious enough to accommodate worshippers 
from the entire country side; consequently there 
was no need of another, for, in everything but 
name, they all subscribed to that stern and unyield- 
ing orthodoxy that came over the sea with their 
Puritan ancestors generations before. 

The village was situated on a large knoll, to the 
west of which the landscape differed but little from 
that usually found in settled farming communi- 
ties, slightly rolling and dotted here and there 
with orchards, farmhouses and barns; but looking 
eastward the scene that greeted the eye was one of 
unrivaled grandeur and beauty, for there nature 
had placed one of her richest and rarest of gifts. 
Stretching out before the village in that direction 
lay a broad, fertile valley about five miles in 
width, east and west, and as far as the eye could 
reach north and south, and through the center of 
which, rolling its silvery tide onward to the sea, 
wound the Looking-glass, a small river so called 
on account of its clear and sparkling waters. Be- 
yond the valley lay a low range of foothills, their 
smooth, oval surfaces in the summer sunshine, 
looking like gigantic lawns with occasional small 
patches of spruce dotting and adding to the beauty 
©f the landscape; and beyond this came another 
and still larger range; then others, range after 
range, each higher and less thickly timbered than 
the last, until at length, high and serene above all 
the rest, Mt. Fleecer raised its snow-capped sum- 
mit in the distance, crowning all with its aspect of 
grandeur and glory. 

*Tis strange that generation after generation 
should live and die in the shadow of a scene of such 


Satan of the Modem World. 


3 


incomparable beauty and looking ever on the 
gloomy side of life alone ; yet so it was, a strange 
freak of human destiny that never has, perhaps 
never will be explained. 

It was to this sleepy, old-fashioned village that 
Harry Brown came back one day after an absence 
of eighteen years, ten of which had been spent 
wandering in every comer of the globe. His 
father, years before, had owned a small farm two 
miles south of there, but on the death of his 
mother, which had occurred when he was a lad of 
twelve years, the elder Brown had sold the place 
and moved to the city of Boston, where he could 
possibly accumulate a fortune and give his only 
son a better education than the village school af- 
forded. In this he seemed to have succeeded re- 
markably well, for, at the time of his death, Harry, 
who had but lately graduated from college, found 
himself in possession of a large sum of money. 

Young, wealthy, handsome and splendidly edu- 
cated, he did not do as many young men in like 
circumstances would have done, spend his days in 
idleness and dissipation and eventually squander 
the fortune his father had worked so hard to gain. 
Being neither miser nor spendthrift, but an ardent 
lover of nature, he was too deeply interested in 
the great world about him to play the part of the 
“prodigal son.” He was, in the deepest and truest 
sense of the word, a philosopher. While he could 
not be called a profound student of any one par- 
ticular branch of learning, his was a broad, deep 
and fertile mind that easily comprehended the 
whole; and, being a careful observer, he fully 
grasped the meaning of all he saw. 


4 


Satan of the Modern World. 


He looked upon the dark as well as the bright 
side of life, but it did not cover his face with 
frowns or drive the sunshine from his light and 
happy heart. No needy hand was outstretched to 
him in vain, and, as far as lay within his power 
and means of doing so, he relieved the sufferings 
of his fellowmen; and while his heart went out 
in sympathy to those whom his charity could not 
reach, he knew that their lives would be no hap- 
pier were his to he darkened because of that which 
could not be avoided. Therefore instead of striv- 
ing against inexorable fate we find him devoting 
his life and the energies of his brain towards the 
solution, so far as lay within his power, of some 
of the great problems that are continually agi- 
tating the social, political and theological world. 

Early in life he had become a free-thinker ; but 
unlike many who are so only in theory, he was one 
in practice as well. With the right of others to 
believe as they pleased he never interfered, cheer- 
fully granting them all the mental freedom he 
claimed for himself, and usually more, for he was 
of a very tolerant disposition and seldom defended 
his opinions when attacked, unless aggravated to 
the limit of human endurance. That he was able 
to do so, however, he had proved on several occa- 
sions, much to the chagrin of over-aggressive theo- 
logians; yet with all his learning and ability he 
detested controversy and avoided it whenever he 
could do so without the appearance of cowardice. 

From earliest childhood he had conceived a pas- 
sion for travel, and thus, in the early morning of 
his manhood, finding himself possessed of suffi- 
cient wealth, he resolved to satisfy that longing to 


Satan of the Modem World. $ 

the fullest extent. Consequently he became a wan- 
derer, and for the ten succeeding years he made 
his home in foreign lands and amid strange and 
alien races, studying their lives, customs and habits 
and different forms of religion and government. 
He had visited all the great historic spots and 
battlefields of the world and the ruins of great and 
mighty empires. He had studied nature in its 
countless forms, from zone to zone, from the cold 
and barren steppes of Central Asia, scant in its 
allowance of flora and fauna, to the rich tropical 
forests of South America, teeming with their 
countless forms of vegetable and animal life. He 
had visited the islands of the sea wherever civilized 
man had set foot, and on the sun-kissed shore of 
Hawaii became so enamored with the climate, the 
beauty and grandeur of the scenery, that he bought 
a large plantation and settled down, as he then 
supposed, for life. Financially the venture proved 
successful, but at the end of two years a feeling 
of homesickness began to creep over him, and the 
longing to see his native land once more became too 
strong to be resisted. It was then he had leased 
his plantation for a term of years and come back 
to his native village, bringing with him Fung 
Wung, a Chinese boy, and Jim Kezokiana and 
wife, Mary, both natives of Hawaii. 

To the people of the village it seemed a strange 
affair, and something they could not quite com- 
prehend, that Harry Brown, young, handsome, 
talented and wealthy, with no one to care for but 
himself, should give up the pleasures and gayeties 
of the great world abroad and come to a quiet out- 
of-the-way place like Verne to make his home on a » 


6 Satan of the Modem World. 


comparatively worthless piece of land which his 
father had at one time owned. 

He found it in the possession of a worthless fel- 
low named McGuire, who had allowed it to go to 
rack and ruin except for a few acres which he tilled 
in a half-hearted way. The fences had tumbled 
down, had rotted where they fell, and were over- 
grown with hazel-brush ; the house, too, had fallen 
to decay, and where once had been a spacious lawn 
in front he found, on his return, a mass of tangled 
weeds and brambles. 

We may well call it a farm of comparative worth- 
lessness, for it consisted of hut eighty acres, two- 
thirds of which was waste land, covered with water 
half the year, and dotted with several small islands, 
each of less than an acre in extent. 

This waste land of which the whole eastern part 
of the place was composed was but a small corner 
of a vast stretch of marshy land of several hun- 
dred acres stretching out to the southeast, and 
concerning which the aboriginal Indians had had a 
very curious and interesting legend. 

When we stop to consider the extent and outline 
of Harry Brown’s farm, we can scarcely wonder 
at the amusement it created among his neighbors 
or blame them for calling it “young Brown’s 
folly.” But their opinions seemed to have made 
as little difference to him as their amusement 
caused him annoyance. He simply paid the price 
asked and quietly took possession. They might 
wonder, ridicule and fancy themselves highly 
amused, but his motives remained unexplained 
and their criticisms unanswered. 

It may have been that he gave credence to the 


Satan Of the Modern World. 7 

Indian legend and being of a philosophical turn of 
mind, considered it an inviting field for geological 
investigations; it may have been the recollections 
of childhood days that linger so fondly in the 
mind in after years when memory has painted 
on the mind a mirage of that period of life in beau- 
tiful and fantastic colors; it may have been the 
memory he cherished of a sweet-faced mother who 
was sleeping in the village churchyard ; or it may 
have been, as was after demonstrated, that under 
proper management and care it could be made 
the most beautiful and valuable estate in the State 
of Vermont. 

But be that as it may, it was not long before 
those who had spent so much time ridiculing young 
Brown and his “swamp” began to notice that the 
entire place was undergoing a transformation. On 
the western side of the highway he began the erec- 
tion of a fine new dwelling house. It was not 
overly large though it was substantially built of 
stone throughout, of Moorish design, very pretty 
and artistic, with a large balcony above supported 
by a row of marble columns, while the roof was 
flat and artistically adorned with tiny minarets en- 
tirely surrounding it. 

Of the interior arrangement of the house, and 
rooms, it is needless to mention but one, a large 
room on the ground floor which he called his 
treasure-room, and well might he call it such, for, 
with the single exception of his plantation in 
Hawaii, it represented all he had accumulated dur- 
ing his ten years of wandering about the world. It 
may be true that a “rolling stone gathers no moss,” 
but it was equally as true that Harry Brown had 


8 Satan of the Modem WorftL 


gathered nearly everything else under the sun, 
stamps, coins, minerals, shells, everything in fact 
that was quaint, curious, precious and interesting 
from the different lands he had visited. 

Pains, too, had been taken in beautifying the 
farm. Stone had been gathered from the fence 
corners and adjoining fields and built into compact 
walls on either side of the broad highway, outside 
of which he had planted a row of maple and other 
shade trees. Opposite the house lay a small island 
near the edge of the marsh and beside it a foul- 
smelling pool. This pool he drained, lowered the 
bottom and covered it with gravel, and in draining 
the waste land had so arranged that all the water 
was drawn off through it, turning it thus from a 
filthy pool into a miniature lake with graveled 
banks in whose bright waters many carp and gold- 
fish sported. The tiny isle beside it was cleared of 
brush and serpents’ nests and transformed into a 
park with green surface dotted with beds of flowers 
and outskirts fringed with evergreens from the 
foothills at Mt. Fleecer’s base. The waste land had 
been reclaimed and transformed into a clover 
meadow from which came the lowing of kine, the 
bleating of sheep and the grunting of overfed 
swine. 

Order was fast taking the place of the chaos 
in which the place had so long been plunged. 
Barely two years had elapsed since his return and 
the transformation was complete. From a scene 
of desolation and decay it had been changed to one 
of wondrous beauty which filled the air with many 
sweet and fragrant perfumes. 

Such a man was Harry Brown at the beginning 


Satan of th'e Modern World. 9 

of his career in the affairs of the village of Verne, 
and such was his “swamp” as it came from the 
artist’s hand. In front of the house, above the 
beautiful arch that was overhung with vines in 
summertime, he placed the simple inscription: 
“Maple Lawn.” 


io Satan of the Modem World.: 


CHAPTER II. 

AN" IDEAL FARMER. 

It was a soft summer’s day about the middle 
of June and we find Harry Brown swinging in a 
hammock on the broad porch in front of the house. 
It was in the afternoon, and no place on earth can 
there be found more ideal weather than on the 
afternoon of those rare June days in central Ver- 
mont when all nature seems in a joyous mood. 

Across the way the fast growing herd of kine 
had eaten their fill and were basking, as lazily as 
their owner, in the sun, half buried from sight 
•among the red clover tops. From the spacious 
and neatly trimmed lawn came the perfume of 
flowers, the hum of the ever busy honey bee, and a 
radiance of bright blended colors. The breeze was 
sighing through the branches of the trees, from 
their dense foliage came the glad music of the song 
birds; but nature, even in its undisturbed har- 
mony, was no happier than the light-hearted young 
owner of Maple Lawn, for his heart and mind were 
in cheerful harmony with his surroundings. 

Back of the house, in the midst of a large 
strawberry-patch, his three strange companions 
were busily at work, and, judging from the amount 
remaining on the vines, there is little reason to 


Satan 6f the Modern World. u 


doubt that Harry, too, should have been there 
helping them. But he was not. That was evident ; 
and whether the berries spoiled on the vines that 
day or not he preferred to idle the afternoon away 
in the hammock, alone with his thoughts, his happy 
day-dreams, and the vagrant fancies of his fertile 
brain, surrounded by the beauties of nature. 

As his eyes wandered dreamily towards the east- 
ern sky where Mt. Fleecer’s snow-capped summit 
sparkled white and resplendent in the sunlight, his 
[thoughts wandered from the past to the present 
and from the present to the future like the fitful 
flashes of sunlight that came streaming in through 
the dens^mass of overhanging vines as they rippled 
softly in the breeze. 

In spite of his apparent laziness one could 
scarcely help admiring him, so young, so handsome 
land so free from care he appeared to be. Though 
but thirty years of age, with his smoothly shaven 
face and boyish appearance, he seemed scarcely a 
day over twenty, and he certainly bore not the 
slightest resemblance to a farmer, though he took 
considerable pride in being called by that name. 
On this particular afternoon he wore a thin grey 
sack coat, duck trousers, white shirt and lawn tie, 
straw hat and patent leather shoes, and his ex- 
ceedingly dapper appearance fully justified "Dea- 
con” Thompson’s sarcasm of a few days before 
to the effect that he "was too doggoned much of a 
dude to ever ’mount to beans farmin’.” 

But the "Deacon’s” opinion, strenuous though 
it was, seemed to have caused him no depression of 
spirits. It was true that he made no pretense of 
farming more than to oversee the place in a general 


12 Satan of the Modern World. 


sort of a way, and as long as there was plenty to 
eat on hand, — the best that nature could produce, — 
and a cellar well stored for winter, he was content. 
The Chinese and Kanaka might work as hard as 
they pleased and do as they pleased with the re- 
ceipts from the surplus. That was their affair; 
but occasionally, however, he would go out and join 
them for a day, hut it was not long ere he found 
that he hindered more than helped. He might be 
a good fellow, a charming conversationalist, and 
all that, but as a farmhand he was what up-to-date 
people would call a “false alarm.” 

But external appearances are ofttimes deceiv- 
ing. At least they were in the case of Harry 
Brown, for he was by no means a lazy man. He 
would work diligently for days among the flower 
beds on the lawn and in the miniature park across 
the way, he would angle for trout along the shady 
banks of the Looking-glass ; again, with gun in 
hand, he would be seen climbing the steep side of 
Mt. Fleecer, he being the only one in the vicinity 
who had ever reached the summit of that lofty 
peak. Often, too, when to the passer-by he ap- 
peared to be dozing idly in the hammock, great 
problems would be revolving through his subtle 
brain, among them being one in which he was 
deeply interested and had determined to solve, 
viz., the geological formation of that vast stretch 
of waste land to the southeast. 

Hard, indeed, would it be for him to be other- 
wise than happy, for he loved nature earnestly 
and passionately, his home was adorned to suit 
his fancy, and all his surroundings were of his own 
ideal arrangement. That his neighbors accused 


Satan of the Modem World. 13 

him of shiftlessness when he did not work and of 
folly when he did, was because they did not under- 
stand his ways and ideas; consequently, as men 
are apt to do, they judged him by their own mental 
standard and experiences, thinking that to be the 
only standard by which men should be judged. 

It was not because they disliked the cultured 
and talented young farmer that they gossiped 
concerning his affairs, for, as a man, they respected 
him and believed him to be honest and upright 
in every respect. They had decided, however, that 
he had one very serious shortcoming, viz., a mis- 
taken idea of farming. Had he manifested the 
least desire to learn they could have overlooked 
all other faults; but no, he didn’t know anything 
and, in that respect, he wouldn’t try to learn. 

Yet in spite of the high esteem in which his 
neighbors held him they became but very little 
acquainted, for between his mental mould and 
theirs lay a gulf as wide and deep as the universe, a 
gulf, which to them, seemed an impassable barrier. 
There was something about him too deep for their 
simple souls to fathom, for, as “Deacon” Thomp- 
son said one day : 

“What in thunder does a man want his house 
filled to the ceilin’ with sech a crazy, spookish mess 
of stuff as he showed me one day? He’s got skulls, 
and bones, and Injun skeletons, and all kinds o’ 
tom-fool money. Why, he’s got more’n a bushel 
of it (money), and I’d bet a dime he couldn’t 
git a pint 0’ cider at the village with the hull dum 
lot! 

“And then jest to think of the tom-foolery of 
a man spendin’ two months’ time ditchin’ and 


14 Satan of the Modem World. 

drainm’ that old marsh, high and dry, and fer 
what? Jest ter make a clover medder fer a few 
fat cows, as lazy as hisself, ter waller down when 
'twould raise Waters as big as pumpkins and oats 
as high as my head !” 

To these rural people it seemed ridiculous in- 
deed for him to wander for days in search of an 
Indian mound, and when he had found one to dig 
it open and take therefrom the stone implements 
and weapons and the skeleton, too, when found in 
a fair state of preservation, then to carry them 
home and lay them away with other rare specimens, 
prizing them as highly as though of the purest 
gold. And when he worked at home outside the 
flower gardens they thought him more crazy than 
ever, yet it was the work in which he was most 
deeply interested; hut his neighbors sneered, and 
said: 

ff Whoever heard of a man digging holes down 
through the ground just to try and find out how 
the land came there ?” 

Thus as he lay dreaming idly in the hammock 
that sunny afternoon a smile came stealing over 
his face as his thoughts wandered back to an in- 
cident of a few days before, and he wondered if 
the relations between himself and neighbors 
would be in any way changed as a result. On the 
day mentioned he had been working near the edge 
of the marsh and well towards the south end of the 
place on a small spot that had been left in its 
natural state. He was very much absorbed in his 
work and was wholly unaware of the presence of 
another until a harsh voice called out from the 
highway : “Hello, there, Brown,” and looking up 


Satan of the Modern World. 15 

he saw “Deacon” Thompson, whom we have pre- 
viously mentioned. 

The “Deacon” owned the farm adjoining Maple 
Lawn to the south and was now on his way to the 
village, stopping as usual to gossip with whoever 
would waste time to listen to him. 

“Why, hello, ‘Deacon/ ” said Harry, cheerfully. 
“I did not know that if you thought about the 
Devil he was bound to appear, but you are here 
nevertheless. I had about made up my mind to 
come up and see you.” 

“Is that so?” said the “Deacon” laconically, 
wondering what could possibly be in the wind, for 
heretofore his gentlemanly farmer neighbor had 
appeared to evade rather than court his acquaint- 
ance. “Wall, I reckon as how Fm always ready to 
be seen. What’s the row?” 

“Nothing serious; only I wanted to ask if you 
cared to sell that swamp eighty over there,” and 
he pointed eastward. “I have noticed that you 
never make any use of it and thought perhaps you 
would be glad to get rid of it.” 

The “Deacon” scratched his head for a moment 
and remained in deep thought — or as deep as he 
was capable of — then after having weighed his 
words with the utmost care, replied: 

“Wall, I might be indooced to sell it; but what 
in thunderation do you want of it? You don’t 
make no use of what you’ve got already. But 
then, there’s no accountin’ fer wot you mite dew. 
Maby you’re goin’ tew dig a few old ponds in it 
and plant the rest tew posy beds ; or maby you’re 
goin’ tew spend a heap 0’ money ditchin’ it and 
make another medder fer them fat sheep and cattle 


16 Satan of the Modern World, 


to waller down. I s’pose one ain’t enuff,” and a 
smile of satisfaction stole over his bronzed face 
at the thought that some more of that sarcastic wit 
for which he famed himself had fallen from his 
lips. 

Harry smiled, not at the flow of wit, hut at the 
conceit of the speaker, and replied : 

‘‘What I might do with it eventually is difficult 
to predict at this early date. But if it were mine 
the first thing I would do with it would be to clear 
off the old swamp, root and branch, for it has been 
an eyesore to me for many days, shutting off as it 
does a view of the valley and lower foothills be- 
yond, which otherwise would be one of the most 
beautiful landscape scenes in the world. That 
is my principal reason for wanting it, a senti- 
mental one, ’tis true; but another is that such 
a panoramic scene as that from my front porch 
would add considerable to the value of the place 
should I decide to sell it some day.” 

There was a short silence during which “Deacon” 
Thompson regarded him with a somewhat puzzled 
expression on his homely face. 

“Wall,” he remarked at length, “if you ain’t the 
dumdest cuss I ever hearn tell of. But seein’ as 
how the old swamp ain’t no good tew me, and don’t 
pay for the taxes nohow, I guess if you want it 
tew fool away your time and money on buildin’ up 
landscape scenes and sech-like ‘Deacon’ Thomp- 
son’s not the one as is goin’ ter stop you. I’ll ask 
Mandy ’bout it when I get home and if she’s 
willin’ — and the Lord knows she ought tew be — 
I guess the dicker can be made all right.” 

During the foregoing conversation the “Deacon” 


Satan of the Modem World. 17 

had alighted from his cart, tied his horse to the 
wall and came over where Harry was at work. 

“What are yon diggin’ a well here for, Brown ?” 
he asked as soon as the question of exchange of 
property had been settled for the time being. 

“Nothing in particular/’ was the reply, “for, 
as a matter of fact, it is not a well at all.” 

“No!” ejaculated the “Deacon” in surprise; 
“then what in the name of the great Lampherical 
are you diggin’ for ? Gold ?” 

Now just who or what the great Lampherical 
was no one had ever been able to learn from the 
“Deacon,” for he kept the secret locked tightly in 
his breast and brought the expression into use only 
on important occasions to clinch an argument or 
emphasize a very important point. Harry laughed 
while the “Deacon’s” face assumed a very wise ex- 
pression. 

“No, I am not digging for gold, either,” was the 
answer, “but for something equally as valuable 
to me. I am studying the geological formation 
of this piece of land.” 

The “Deacon’s” eyes bulged out and he fairly 
gasped for breath. It was seldom that he admitted 
ignorance, but this time he was staggered and his 
look of wisdom had deserted him in a moment of 
need. “The wot!” he gasped. 

“The geological formation of this land; or, to 
simplify matters, the natural formation, how it was 
formed, how it came here in its present state.” 

The look of wisdom returned to the “Deacon’s” 
face and he replied in a decided and confident tone : 

“If you are so darned anxious to find out as all 
that why don’t you read the Bible and find out 


1 8 Satan of the Modern World. 


in half the time it took you to dig that old hole ?” 

“I have read the first and the last chapters of 
that book as many times, and far more carefully 
than you have done, but the information I am 
seeking is not to be found in those or any other 
chapters of the Bible. Genesis may be all right 
considered in the light of a fragmentary history 
of the origin and traditions of a certain race of 
people ; but Genesis and these silent clods of earth 
tell a different story concerning the formation of 
this soil, and I must believe the one which pre- 
sents the most conclusive evidence before the tri- 
bunal of common sense. You have read the history 
of creation as recorded in the Bible, by one who 
had not the slightest conception of natural law, 
and now let me read to you the history of creation 
as written on this soil by the hand of nature.” 

He threw up a spadeful of fresh earth as he 
spoke. 

“Now, there,” he continued, “three feet below 
the surface of the earth the formation is exactly 
the same as at the top, only more compact. Be- 
hold that clod before it has had time to crumble 
from exposure to the air and you see plainly and 
distinctly the rank weeds and blades of grass pre- 
cisely as they fell there, thousands of years ago, 
it may have been. You need not read the Bible 
to learn how this formation of land came here in 
its present state ; behold there before your 
very eyes the evidence as significant as the 
handwriting on the walls of Belshazzar’s Pal- 
ace. Ages ago this spot on which we stand 
was a vast body of water; probably the lake 
of which we learn through Indian tradition* 


Satan of the Modern World. 19 

Around the shores a scum began to gather on its 
smooth and placid surface. There were no navi- 
gators to cross and re-cross, not even a primeval 
savage in his birch-bark canoe ; for had there been 
the lake would still be here to-day. Time passed 
on and with each succeeding year the scum grew 
thicker and extended farther from the shore, 
while at the outer edge of the gathering sediment, 
as it grew more compact and firm, a thin, rank 
growth of vegetation sprang up. As the debris 
gathered and gradually spread out towards the 
center of the lake the vegetation followed, and thus, 
after countless ages had passed and gone, the whole 
surface eventually became covered. 

“Such, then, was the origin and foundation of 
the vast stretch of waste land on which we stand 
to-day. Year after year a rank growth of grass 
and weeds came up, kissed into life by the warm 
sunshine, reached the age of its maturity, died and 
fell down again. This simple process of robbing 
the atmosphere to build up a solid body of land 
has been going on for millions of years, is going 
on to-day, and will continue to do so wherever 
favorable conditions prevail as long as the universe 
exists. That this is an unchangeable law of nature 
you can readily understand if you but open your 
eyes, but the words of Christ, saying, ‘He that 
hath eyes let him see/ were never intended for you, 
for having eyes you see not, neither do you com- 
prehend the simplest fact of nature.” 

“Well, I’m Lampherical a shoutin’ if that don’t 
beat all the dum folderol I’ve ever hearn tell of,” 
almost shouted the “Deacon.” “But s’posin’ ’tis 


20 Satan of the Modem World. 


so, what infernal good will it do you or me to know 
it?” 

“I have not flattered myself with the belief that 
it would do you any particular good to know it, 
nor is it for your special benefit that I am pur- 
suing these investigations,” replied Harry, with a 
touch of severity in his tone. “But with myself 
it is a different matter. I have a desire, a passion, 
I might call it, to know the depth of this formation 
and the probable length of time that has elapsed 
since the formation first began. In a few years 
I hope to be able to make a very accurate calcula- 
tion of the number of years required to deposit 
a depth of one inch, after which I shall be able 
to make a close estimate of the number of years 
which have elapsed since the spot on which we stand 
was the shore of old Okemos* beautiful lake. 

“Here where you see these stakes driven down 
and the wires drawn through, I am experimenting 
by measuring the growth and accumulation of 
vegetation year by year. I have estimated that a 
thousand years, at least, were required to deposit 
the first foot of earth, while at the bottom of the 
hole where the soil is more compact, would require 
as long again. Now that is as far as I am able 
to go with my calculation at present, but when 
I have a more reliable basis for calculation I may 
have reason to change my figures. But of one 
thing you may be certain, Mr. Thompson, that is 
that no matter how long it took to produce this 
land, it came here as naturally as you would sow 
and reap a field of grain.” 

“I reckon, then, that you must be one of them in- 
fidels ; them fellers over in England and Germany 


Satan of the Modem World. 21 


as claims that our grandfathers and grandmothers 
way back in Adam’s time wus monkeys and apes; 
that the Bible ain’t so ; and all kinds 0’ lies about 
God. I hope they’ll all go plumb to hell, and you, 
too, if you dast dispute the Lord any more.” The 
“Deacon’s” face was flushed and he spoke in sneer- 
ing, angry tones. 

“If I really thought I was disputing the Lord 
I would ask His pardon for the offense ; but having 
no knowledge of such a Being I shall continue to 
believe that I am not,” answered Harry, sooth- 
ingly. 

“But you know what He tells you to do in the 
Bible and that is anuff for anybody to know,” said 
the “Deacon,” though a little more calmly than 
before. “All you have to do is to believe it and 
you’ll be saved from hell.” 

“That may be so,” was the reply, “but a few 
centuries ago when Christianity ruled the civilized 
world, it did not save anyone from hell. Far from 
it. The world was then buried in ignorance, crime 
and fear, and all Europe was one crimson, bloody, 
living hell. Some people, at the present day, may 
go to hell when they die for all I can say to the 
contrary, but wherever the Church has reigned 
supreme, there death alone afforded relief from 
it.” 

That made the “Deacon” mad; mad as only a 
deacon can get. “You may sass me all you want,” 
he shouted, “for I am not as well edicated as you ; 
but I’ll send our minister down to talk to you, and 
you won’t dast talk back to him the way you do to 
me ; you jest bet you won’t.” 

“Send him along/’ was the cheerful response* 


22 Satan of the Modem World. 


“and I promise he will have no cause to complain 
of the treatment he receives from me.” 

“You’ll haf to treat him right/’ was the know- 
ing reply. “You da sent talk back to him, for the 
Lord’ll be on his side. He’s a mitj smart feller, 
too, I want to tell you, and knows a heap besides. 
There was never an infidel yet that opened his 
mouth to him that he didn’t wind him up in short 
order; he’d make ’em sick, I tell you. Why,” he 
exclaimed, excitedly, “there was old Jim Harper 
who died in his sins awhile back; he said at the 
village one time as how he didn’t believe there was 
a God, and you ought to heard our minister jump 
on him about it. Why, he quoted Scripture for an 
hour to prove that there was; but the old cuss 
would talk back, and said as he didn’t believe the 
Bible nohow. Well, that made the minister mad. 
’Tain’t every minister that’s got spunk anuff to 
git mad, but ours has, and he called old Jim a 
liar and a fool ; yes, he did.” 

At this sudden explosion of wrath Harry leaned 
on his spade and laughed until the tears came to 
his eyes. “Poor Jim,” said he. “I can hardly 
blame him for getting sick, and no doubt such con- 
vincing arguments as those would have the same 
effect on me. But, be that as it may, you, your 
minister and the Lord can all conduct your affairs 
to suit yourselves ; that’s the way I am doing ; 
but if the Lord is conducting His as successfully 
as I am mine it is evident that He is doing better 
than when Moses was keeping the records.” 

“I reason there’s a hot place waitin’ fer you 
down below,” growled the “Deacon,” “and as fer 
your thinkin’ you’re as smart as our minister, I 


Satan of the Modern World. 23 

want to tell you we give him five hundred dollars 
a year fer preachin’, and that’s a heap 0’ money, 
too; a heap site mor’n you’ll git diggin’ holes in 
this old swamp 0’ your’n,” and with this parting 
shot the “Deacon” went away in a rage. 

The incident just related had taken place about 
a fortnight previous to the day on which we find 
him in the hammock, and as he recalled the conver- 
sation and the high esteem in which the minister 
was held by the towns-people, the salary he com- 
manded, and his reputation as an infidel killer, 
he had a desire to meet him. 

He arose from his lounging position intending 
to go to the village for the mail, when he saw a car- 


24 


Satan of the Modem [World. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE LIGHT (INTELLECTUAL) THAT FAILED. 

A tall, slim, sandy-haired individual alighted, 
tied his horse to a post, then started up the walk 
towards the house. He had a very solemn face, 
wore a black suit of clothes as solemn as the face 
and of clerical cut which carried with it the evi- 
dence of having seen better days. As he came up 
the walk with important step and confident bear- 
ing, Harry recognized him as the village parson 
and wondered if the Deacon had really sent him as 
he had threatened. “If so,” he thought, “they must 
be more concerned about my spiritual welfare than 
I am myself.” 

“How do you do, Mr. Thornwaite,” said he, hold- 
ing out his hand as the minister came upon the 
porch. 

“How do you do. Brother Brown,” said the Par- 
son, shaking the extended hand as though it was 
the last one he ever expected to grasp. “I am very, 
very glad to find you at home.” 

“And I am very happy to meet you, sir,” re- 
plied Harry, cordially, “and if you will permit me 
I will bring you a chair and weTl sit out here 
where it ? s cool,” and he brought out a soft easy- 
chair, into which the Parson settled himself very 
cozily. 


Satan of the Modem World. 25 

“You seem to have everything nice and com- 
fortable here. Brother Brown,” he said, as Harry 
resumed his swinging in the hammock. 

“I think so,” was the answer, “and I have been 
using them to the best possible advantage this 
afternoon, too.” 

“It is a fine day,” remarked the self-appointed 
missionary who wanted to approach a delicate sub- 
ject, hut hardly seeing his way clear was content, 
for the time being, to echo the sentiments of his 
host. 

“A very beautiful day indeed,” continued Harry, 
“and one with which this region seems particularly 
blessed in summertime. There is a beauty in the 
sunshine and an evenness of temperature found in 
no other place of wdiich I know except one.” 

“Where is that,” asked the Parson with an air 
of supreme wisdom, “in Florida ?” 

“No,” replied Harry, smiling slightly at his 
visitor’s limited knowledge of climates. “The 
heat there is too intense in summer to be ideal. 
The place to which I have reference is a vast plain 
in the northern part of Ecuador, South America. 
It was seven years ago that I first visited the spot, 
being then on my way down the western coast. 
I spent a month there en route and two more when 
I returned a year and a half later. Thus by our 
seasons I would have been there in midwinter and 
again in midsummer ; but there it is neither winter 
nor summer. At that high altitude it cannot be 
hot, and so near the equator it cannot be cold, 
therefore, between the two extremes, the mountains 
above with their eternal snow and the valleys below 
with their torrid heat, the temperature during the 


26 Satan of the Modem World. 


entire year is one of perpetual spring. No words 
of mine can describe the beauty of the climate or 
the grandeur of the scenery surrounding that vast 
plateau. Grand is but a simple and meaningless 
word with which to attempt to describe the pano- 
rama nature has there spread out before the eye. 
It must be seen to be appreciated and understood. 

“Yet with all the wondrous beauties of scenery 
and climate it has its drawbacks, something to be 
expected, for in no land or clime can we find per- 
fection. So it is with Ecuador. The altitude is 
too great and the inhabitants are an alien and un- 
friendly race/’ 

As he ceased speaking the Parson gazed at him 
long and earnestly while the expression of superi- 
ority his face had assumed especially for the oc- 
casion gradually died away. 

“You have a very beautiful home here, now,” 
said he at length, with a strong emphasis- on the 
“now.” 

“Yes,” agreed Harry quite readily, “it is getting 
to be quite pretty, but I found plenty of hard work 
confronting me when I came here, which had to be 
performed before it could be made as you see 
it now; but 1 have done my share and it is now 
but a matter of time when nature will complete 
the work. See how fast those walnut sprouts are 
shooting up, and the young vineyard to the south 
will give me its first fruits next year. We have 
an enormous crop of berries this season, more than 
the boys have been able to take care of. Of course 
I am anxious to see everything looking as I have 
planned it should look in time, but I am well 
aware, too, that nature always takes its time and 


Satan of the Modem World. 27 

cannot be hurried, consequently I must wait until 
Time, the ancient wizard, has wrought the trans- 
formation desired. Some day, however, years 
hence, I may stand here in the autumntide of life, 
and with the silvery hair falling about my aged 
face, gaze up and down this broad highway and be- 
hold it shaded with the spreading branches of 
these now tender shoots. From across the way, 
through the dense foliage I may catch the glimmer 
of yon tiny lake as the sun’s rays kiss its crystal 
waters ; from the meadow will come the lowing of 
the kine and the bleating of sheep; and all that, 
Mr. Thornwaite, will be a scene to bring cheer to 
the heart of a lonely old man and remind him that 
his life has not been lived altogether in vain.” 

“Yes, Brother Brown, you are fortunate indeed,” 
responded the Parson in husky tones, “and, pardon 
me for saying, however, one could envy you the 
possession of a home like this.” 

“Possibly so,” said Harry, in surprise, “but the 
place was here with all its possibilities long before 
I came, but I had common sense enough to take 
advantage of the opportunities that came in my 
way instead of casting them aside, then in after 
years setting up a mournful wail about ‘what might 
have been.’ Opportunity came to my door, we 
clasped hands and taking this imperfect work of 
nature transformed it into a paradise of beauty.” 

The Parson shifted uneasily in his chair, but his 
cue had come at last and with an effort, he said : 

“We are taught in the Bible that the Lord 
created all things perfect, and is it not disputing 
that to say that this was' an imperfect work?” 
The Parson’s voice was very uncertain. 


^28 Satan of the Modern World. 


“If the Bible makes a statement to that effect 
then there can be no doubt that I am disputing 
it,” was the reply in a positive tone, “for I have my 
ideas as to what is and what is not perfect, and I 
did not get them from the Bible either. Still, 
judging from the difference in the appearance be- 
tween some Christians’ farms and mine, it might 
be a good thing for them to get their ideas of per- 
fection from some other source as well. Undoubt- 
edly, too, it is those who look upon the Bible as the 
fountain from which all wisdom flows who have 
such God-forsaken looking farms as this one was 
before I became the envied owner of it.” 

“Well, it cost more than most people could af- 
ford to fix it up as you have done,” and the Par- 
son’s tone was very apologetic. 

“That is according to your way of thinking,” 
said Harry, “but I beg to differ from you on that 
point. With the exception of the house the ex- 
pense, as far as money is concerned, was compara- 
tively little, and any industrious farmer, who had 
the taste and inclination could have accomplished 
all that I have done at odd spells. The house, of 
course, cost quite a sum, but even a modest cottage 
of neat appearance would not look out of place in 
the midst of these surroundings. 

“But no, Mr. Thornwaite, want of money is not 
the reason why there are so few pretty farms and 
neat dooryards, and to convince you of the fact, 
I will tell you what I think is the reason there are 
no beautiful homes in this community. You 
Christians are too much concerned about the wel- 
fare of your souls in a world to come (a world 
of which we know nothing and not knowing should 


Satan of the Modern World. 29 

care nothing) to think anything about this one or 
to try to make it beautiful. This celestial world of 
which you dream, is, for all we know, a world that 
has no existence except in the imagination; why, 
then, should we banish from life all the pleas- 
ures and happiness of this real world of nature 
in preparing the soul for one that is only supposed 
to exist? Driving the sunlight from your lives, 
as you do, you see only the misery, and sin, and 
unhappiness, all of which could be eliminated 
were but half the money that is contributed to 
the support of the church used for the material 
benefit of those in need. 

“Do you remove the misery and woe that is 
ever confronting you? Do you make even a de- 
termined effort to do so? On the contrary, year 
after year great churches are being erected, un- 
told wealth is poured into their greedy coffers, and 
people die of starvation under the shadows of their 
very walls. Christians imagine that this world 
was never intended for happiness — that happiness 
is at best but a mild form of sin; so, dreaming 
of a life of ecstacy and bliss beyond the grave, 
they are blind to the joys and beauties that should 
be inseparable from life here. Blinded by faith 
and with heart and brain ever chained to a de- 
lusive hope, they trample all that is bright and 
beautiful in life beneath their feet, then murder 
the sunshine with the dismal complaint that this 
is a dreary and sin cursed world. 

“Why is this a dreary and sin cursed world — as 
it appears to a vast majority? Because ignorance, 
superstition and selfishness have made it so. What, 
to a sincere Christian, who can see nothing but a 


30 Satan of the Modern World. 

downward path to hell in every form of pleasure, 
are beautiful homes, gardens of flowers and shaded 
highways for a few short years in a world that is 
cursed with total depravity, plagues, pestilences 
and famines when in a few days, perhaps, he may 
be called home to a life of everlasting bliss? 

“That is the way you people reason; that is 
your mistaken philosophy of life. That is why 
the world to-day is burdened with its load of want 
and crime and wanton cruelty. That is the reason 
why the gaunt specter of famine stalks to and fro 
in your midst and people starve under the very 
shadow of the sanctuary. And no doubt that is the 
reason, too, why the good people around here 
never find time to repair their fences and beautify 
their farms and villages.” 

Quite a long silence followed, which neither 
seemed anxious to break, yet the Parson was doing 
some very deep thinking. He had come up there 
firmly resolved to convert Harry Brown to his way 
of thinking, but he saw when it was too late that 
he had reckoned without his host. This cultured, 
serious-minded young man was so different from 
what he had supposed all infidels to be that he 
hardly knew what to do about making his errand 
known. It was plainly to be seen that the person 
before him, so grave and yet so gay, was a deeper 
thinker and more thorough student of the world 
than he, and he was not at all anxious to enter 
into a controversy with him. “Why don’t you ever 
come to church, Mr. Brown?” he asked at length. 
“I have never seen you there but once, and that 
was two years ago. We would be very glad to have 
you come to — become a regular attendant, if we 


Satan of the Modern World. 31 

found some means of interesting you in our work.” 

"Well,” replied Harry, laughing, “I really have 
not had the time to spare, except within the last 
few months, and in those few months I fear the 
want of inclination has had more to do with keep- 
ing me away than anything else. Hot being ex- 
actly what might be termed a Christian, I have 
not been able to discover what good it would do 
you or me were I to attend.” 

“That’s just why I called on you this after- 
noon, Mr. Brown,” said the Parson, happy to find 
his chance at last, “to tell you that you ought to 
come to church more often. I should say, were 
I to do my duty as a minister, that you ought to 
join the church, but you ought to attend anyway. 
While, just at present you may not feel that you 
can become a member of the church, there is no 
telling what may happen in the future; so in the 
meantime we will hope for the best. Socially, how- 
ever, you will find the church a great benefit to 
you, while on the other hand you will be a benefit 
to the church.” 

“And, in other words,” said Harry, smiling, 
“I can attend church for the social advantages it 
offers, while the congregation will tolerate my 
presence there for the financial aid I can render. 
Well, certainly that is a good bargain — worthy at 
least of serious consideration.” 

It was now the Parson’s turn to laugh, which he 
did heartily and with good humor. 

“But you must not look at it in that light. 
Brother Brown,” he said, coloring slightly, “for, 
while we are always glad to have all who are able 
to contribute to the support of the church, we 


32 Satan of the Modem World. 

hope that eventually you will become a member 
of the church.” 

Harry's face became rather serious as he an- 
swered : 

“In that, Mr. Thornwaite, I am afraid you are 
chasing a delusive hope ; nevertheless, I shall come 
to church, and should you, in the meantime, con- 
vince me of the truth of Christianity, I shall be 
perfectly willing to accept it. But, as there seems 
little prospect of our reaching an agreement on 
that question now, let us not mar the beauty of 
the afternoon in arguing the case, but leave it for 
the future to solve in its own way. However, you 
need not be in a hurry,” as his visitor arose and 
was about to depart, “and if you will come inside 
I will show you some of the pretty things I picked 
up while roaming about the world.” 

The Parson's face glowed with pleasure. 

“It will be a rare treat, indeed,” said he, as he 
arose and followed Harry into the house. “I have 
never had an opportunity of traveling myself and 
shall appreciate the sight of your curios very 
much.” 

Harry led him first into the library, to which 
he had recently made a large addition of scientific 
works, and the Parson's eyes sparkled with delight 
as they ranged over the many shelves of sumptu- 
ous volumes. 

“Really, Mr. Brown,” said he, “I must ask per- 
mission to come up here some day and look them 
over at my leisure. My reference works are so ex- 
tremely limited as to hamper me at times, and it 
would be such a help to me could I drop in here 
once in a while.” 


Satan of the Modem World. 33 

“You are perfectly welcome to come here at 
any time and make use of such books as may be 
of interest to you. Drop in whenever convenient, 
and if I am not at home Mary will extend all the 
privileges of the house to you.” 

From there they passed on into the museum, 
and the Parson was utterly bewildered by the 
magnitude of the scene with which he was sur- 
rounded. Awed into silence he followed his host 
about the room, listening eagerly and attentively 
as he described to him the origin, use and nation- 
ality of more quaint, curious and interesting things 
than he had ever supposed there were in existence. 
At length they stopped before a large painting, a 
magnificent work of art. The Parson gazed at 
it long and earnestly, and with deeply sympathetic 
eyes. The background of the scene was a large 
and beautiful structure of the early Byzantine pe- 
riod, in front of which, surrounded by an angry 
mob of cowled monks and richly-robed priests, 
each bearing in his hand a crucifix, stood the slen- 
der, graceful form of a young woman of rare and 
extraordinary beauty. Around a high and noble 
brow clustered a wealth of jet black hair that fell 
in waving ringlets over her graceful shoulders. 
Her eyes were large, dark and gloriously beautiful ; 
eyes that must have been soft and dreamy in re- 
pose, but were now flashing defiance at the howling 
mob who seemed determined to destroy her fair 
young life. 

“You seem to be very much interested in that 
painting,” said Harry, as the Parson still lingered 
by the spot. 

“I am,” was the reply, “deeply interested. It 


34 Satan of the Modem World. 

is a very pathetic scene; a noble work of art, so 
far as I am qualified to judge. May I ask what 
it represents?” 

“You are right in saying it is a noble work of 
art ; and it represents the most damnable and cow- 
ardly crime ever perpetrated against a pure and 
spotless soul. The structure in the background 
is the Alexandrian Library and Museum. That 
demon to the right with the evil face is one, Peter, 
who, at the instigation of Cyril, Archbishop of 
Alexandria, is leading a cowardly and fanatical 
mob of wild monks from the desert — a mob of 
men whose hearts and souls are blacker than mid- 
night — in a murderous assault on the defenseless 
maiden there at bay. Who is she? None other 
than Hypatia, daughter of Theon, the astronomer 
and mathematician, a philosopher who inherited 
all her father’s vast learning, and was the purest 
soul ever enshrined in woman’s form. She had 
just come from the lecture room where she lec- 
tured daily to a multitude of students who had 
been drawn to Alexandria from all parts of the 
world by the fame of her wisdom and learning. 
As she was about to step into her chariot to return 
home, she was attacked by this mob of cowled 
demons, stripped, dragged through the streets of 
the city to the church of Cesarea, where she was 
torn to pieces, limb from limb, the bones scraped 
bare of flesh and burned upon the altar of the 
living God. 

“Such was the beginning of the long and bitter 
struggle between Christianity and science, with 
philosophy and truth on one side and bigotry and 
error on the other — a struggle that deluged all 


Satan of the Modern World. 35 

Europe for centuries beneath an ocean of blood 
and flame — a struggle that would be revived again 
to-day could the church but gain once more su- 
preme control over the mind of man. For this 
fiendish crime Cyril, the ‘holy man of God/ was 
sainted and sanctified by a church as cruel and re- 
lentless as he; and such has ever been its reward 
to faithful devotees.” 

There was a hard metallic ring in his voice 
and his eyes blazed resentfully. 

“But that wasn’t our church,” protested the 
Parson; “that was the Roman Catholic Church, 
and we don’t consider it a Christian church at all.” 

“It was Christianity as it was in the days of its 
power and glory,” was the stern reply, “and the 
same as it would be to-day were temporal power 
given it once more — the same even as your church 
would be under like conditions. Had you lived 
in that distant day and dared utter the words you 
just did to me, your fate would be that of millions 
of others who dared speak their honest thoughts 
regardless of what the consequences might be.” 

This was rather more than the Parson had an- 
ticipated. As a good missionary he must neces- 
sarily defend his own faith and accordingly entered 
another protest. 

“I cannot deny that the Roman Catholic Church 
was corrupt in those days,” said he, with more 
animation than he had hitherto manifested, 
“neither can you deny that Christianity is better 
and purer than it was then.” 

“Yes, cheerfully will I agree with you on that 
point,” was the reply. “It is both better and purer. 
But why is it so? Simply because there is less 


36 Satan of the Modem World. 

of it; that makes the only difference. It is purer 
to-day because its power is broken and it must 
struggle for its existence against the onward march 
of reason. It is purer to-day because it no longer 
predominates over the nations of the earth. It is 
purer to-day because science has undermined the 
foundations of its ancient traditionalism and 
forced it to pose before the world as a great moral 
force. 

“That religion becomes more corrupt when it 
gains in opulence and power is proven by turning 
back the pages of history and studying the rise and 
fall of the great religions of the past. It was true 
of ancient Rome, when the foundations of Pagan- 
ism were threatened with obliteration, as can be 
seen in the persecution of the early Christians. 
It was true of Greece, the most enlightened of all 
the ancient nations of which we have any knowl- 
edge, for, with all their learning and culture 
Socrates was forced to drink the deadly hemlock, 
and Anaxagoras was banished for preaching against 
a corrupt and irrational polytheism. That what 
was true of former times is true to-day we learn 
from the high priests of polygamy when the at- 
tempt to build up a great Mormon empire beyond 
the Rockies was frustrated, and the bitter struggle 
which followed there proves conclusively that men 
will shed their blood as freely for an absurd the- 
ology as he who volunteers at his country’s call 
and sheds his life blood in freedom’s name.” 

“Where did you get the painting?” asked the 
Parson, simply to change the subject, for he had 
lost all heart, and concluded that if his religion 
could not defend itself, he certainly would not. 


Satan of the Modem World 37 

“There is a sad story connected with that paint- 
ing, too,” said Harry, “but as the afternoon is 
waning I will state it as briefly as possible. It was 
painted in Rome in the sixth century by Mazzini, 
an artist whose name has been lost in the passing 
centuries, but was of more than ordinary genius, 
and a profound philosopher as well. This paint- 
ing was never seen by anyone except the artist 
himself for many years after it was finished, and 
then only by accident, for he realized perfectly 
well the danger to which it would expose him. 
One day, however, as he stood in his studio survey- 
ing it with admiring eyes, a priest of God — so- 
called — came in unannounced and before the artist 
realized his danger and dropped the curtain, the 
evil, prowling eyes of his unwelcome visitor had 
taken in the scene and read the inscription, which, 
translated, is as follows: 

“ ‘Cyril and Hypatia ; Bigotry and Philosophy/ 

“Mazzini, as soon as the priest had gone, rolled 
up the canvas and, taking a large sum of money 
which he always kept in the house, made his way 
to the river, in less than an hour had shaken the 
dust of Rome forever from his feet, and was sail- 
ing as fast as the wind could bear him on across 
the Mediterranean to Egypt. There, in the out- 
skirts of Alexandria, amid poor and humble sur- 
roundings, he made his home with a family of 
obscure birth to whom, at his death, he left this 
noble work of art and a large manuscript contain- 
ing a history of himself and a valuable treatise 
on the social conditions of Rome and Alexandria 
in that distant day. Through some strange fancy 
of fate both were preserved by the family for cen- 


38 Satan of the Modem World. 

turies, and were in the hands of the last surviving 
member when I visited that city several years ago, 
and he, an old man, was dying in the midst of pov- 
erty and filth. Prowling around the outskirts of 
Alexandria one day I came upon the hovel in 
which he lived, and learning of his deplorable cir- 
cumstances', made his few remaining days as com- 
fortable as possible. The painting and manuscript, 
being the only articles of value in his possession, 
he gave to me as a token of gratitude for a simple 
deed of kindness. There are many mementoes here 
that are dear to me, but of all I possess I prize 
these two the most highly. 

“But before you go/' he added, as the Parson 
started towards the door with a puzzled expression 
on his homely face, “you must come with me into 
the garden, after which I will accompany you to 
the village." 

They then went out where Fung, Jim and Mary 
were industriously picking berries, and after in- 
troducing the Parson to his strange companions, 
Harry gave him a large basket of the luscious fruit, 
whereupon they both took their departure for the 


Satan of the Modem World. 39 


CHAPTER IV. 

AN- EVENTFUL SUNDAY. 

It was on Sunday morning, three days after 
the Rev. James Thornwaite had called at Maple 
Lawn, that we find Harry Brown, Jim Kezokiana, 
the Hawaiian, and Fung Wung, the Chinaman, 
all seated around a small table in the dining-room 
eating their breakfast. Had any of the villagers 
supposed that Harry Brown was inclined to be 
aristocratic just because he possessed wealth, a 
college education and was the owner of the most 
beautiful farm in the State, they would have dis- 
covered their mistake could they have looked in 
upon them that Sunday morning. The big tiger- 
cat, Bill, the most favored individual of the house- 
hold, was seated close to Harry’s left hand, drum- 
ming lovingly as though expecting to be rewarded, 
as usual, with a goodly slice of meat. The table 
was spread for four, but Mary had not yet come 
in to join them. It was a very curious and cos- 
mopolitan group, representing, as they did, three 
distinct races, chatting and joking over their 
breakfast; yet it was a group in which the lines 
of race, creed or color were never drawn, or even 
mentioned, and had they been brothers of the same 
flesh and blood they could not have shown more 
consideration for one another’s feelings. 


40 


Satan of the Modem World. 


“Say, Jim,” said Harry suddenly, “don’t you 
want to go to church with me to-day? You know 
I promised the Parson I would go, and it has 
just occurred to me that you might want to go 
along. It would be an excellent opportunity of 
getting some of that salvation they tell so much 
about — that is, if your sins are bothering you to 
any great extent.” 

“Nope,” replied Jim quite soberly, “me no want 
to get religion, no want to hear salvation preached 
at all; want to hear nuffin’ *bout it at all. Me 
hear nuff salvation preached and see nuff of mis- 
sionaries on my island. They heap big preach, 
want heap fine houses and heap money; but, all 
same, no do much good.” 

“Then, Jim, you seem to think they do not ac- 
complish a great amount of good,” said Harry. 
“Well, as you are so positive about the matter why 
not give your reason?” 

“You can no eat salvation,” said Jim, as though 
quite certain of the truth of the statement he was 
making, “and you can no wear it or drink it. 
One time on ” 

“And so the kind of religion that appeals to 
you,” interrupted Harry, laughing, “is a religion 
consisting of plenty to eat, plenty to wear and 
plenty to drink — presumably poi !” 

“One time on the island,” continued Jim, whose 
only notice of the interruption was to wait pa- 
tiently until the Chinaman had ceased his laugh- 
ing, “me get offel poor; could no get work, but 
all time get heap hungry. Some one say to me, 
go to the mission. So me go to the missionary 
and say, ‘No got work, no got money, no got eat. 


Satan of the Modern World. 41 

but heap hungry. Give me work so I can eat.’ 
‘You Christian ?’ he say. ‘No/ I say. ‘Don’t you 
want to be Christian ?’ he say again. Then I say, 
‘No, hear you preach, but no savy your religion. 
Me no believe it.’ He say, ‘You come be good 
Christian and I find you job and you have lots 
to eat/ ‘No/ me say, ‘me glad to work, but no 
believe your religion/ Then he get heap mad and 
say, ‘You lazy dog, here’s some hard bread for you, 
take it and don’t come back here no more, you 
heathen !’ Then me get heap more hungry and 
bimeby see you. Tell you me want work and what 
missionary say. You say, ‘Come with me, Jim, 
you no lazy dog. I’ll give you work and you be- 
lieve what you damn please.’ Then I have lots 
to eat and more money ’n I need, and bimeby Mary 
come to work for you too. I liked her a big heap 
and you say, ‘Marry her, Jim, if you want to, and 
you’ll always have a home as long as I live.’ 
Bimeby you say, ‘Jim, I going to leave island/ 
and me feel heap bad, but you say, ‘Come along, 
Jim, if you want to.’ So we come here and live 
in grand house and have heap good times. No, 
me no want to go to church.” And Jim shook his 
head very decidedly. 

Something very much resembling a tear glis- 
tened in Harry’s eyes as Jim finished his simple, 
yet truthful narrative of his experience with Chris- 
tianity, but he brushed it hastily away and turned 
to the Mongolian with a happy laugh and said: 

“Well, Fung Wung, the Heathen Chinee, how 
about you?” And he gave him a gentle kick on 
the shin. “Old Jim over there has told his troubles 
and if you have any you had better be making 


42 Satan of the Modern World. 

them known. Do yon want to go to church to-aay 
and listen to the Rev. James as he dwells upon the 
beauties of heaven and the horrors of hell?” 

“Me? Oh, me no givee damnee,” said the in- 
corrigible Fung Wung with a grin. 

“Indeed ; well, I see you have not forgotten your 
first lessons in English which you picked up from 
British sailors in Hong Kong a few years ago. 
Now, really, Fung, you ought to mend your ways 
before it is too late. Where do you expect to go 
when you die?” 

The Mongolian winked at Jim, then with mock 
gravity replied: 

“When me gettee old and no longer havee good 
time, and you no more makee good wine and cider, 
then me gettee religion and go to heaven, of 
course.” Then he grinned as though he had said 
something exceptionally bright. 

“Well said, Fung Wung, my boy,” said Harry, 
patting him on the back and endeavoring to sup- 
press a smile at the petty conceit of the Mongolian. 
“Those are grand sentiments indeed. You have 
more good sound Christian philosophy stuffed in 
under that old pigtail of yours than I had ever sup- 
posed a Chinaman’s head capable of holding. 
While you do not look to be so awful smart, you 
have in some incomprehensible manner grasped 
the most essential part of the Christian scheme 
of salvation, viz., to raise the devil all your life, 
repent at the eleventh hour and sneak into heaven 
at the last possible moment, cheating the devil 
thereby out of his just dues. But I guess you will 
go, nevertheless; the sight of your yellow hide 
in that purple gown that came the other day will 


Satan of the Modem World. 43 

eclipse anything ever seen at the village church, 
therefore, Fung Wung, if you want to be the great 
attraction of the day be outside with your pony 
and cart at precisely ten o’clock and dressed in 
your most magnificent raiment.” 

“Allee lightee, me no givee damnee,” and aris- 
ing Fung Wung went out whistling a Chinese ver- 
sion of Yankee Doodle. 

Mary had come in in the meantime, and chat- 
ting with her and Jim, he finished his breakfast 
a few minutes later. It was nine o’clock when he 
left the table, and as he passed through the mu- 
seum he stopped, as he had dozens of times within 
the past few weeks, in front of the painting which 
told of the sad and tragic end of the fair young 
maiden philosopher, Hypatia, which for some 
strange and incomprehensible reason, held an irre- 
sistible fascination for him of late, and as he 
gazed long and earnestly at the strangely beautiful 
and intellectual face — a face so calm and serene 
even in the valley of the shadow, he wondered why 
it was that a vision of the fair face pictured there 
was ever before him, often when awake, but always 
in his dreams. What was this strange and irre- 
sistible force that drew him there so often, and 
sometimes against his will? He had always ad- 
mired her character — so young and fair, so pro- 
found in learning, so cultured in manners, as 
pure and spotless as a vestal virgin amid all the 
demoralizing influences of Alexandria. The pa- 
thetic and tragic end of her brilliant career had 
appealed to him as no other event in history had 
ever done — had left an imprint on his soul that 
the ebb and flow of time could never erase from 


44 Satan of the Modern World. 

the sands of his memory. The more he gazed upon 
the fair creature portrayed there the more his ad- 
miration increased until the bud of admiration, in 
his heart, had blossomed into a pure and holy love. 

In love with whom? A martyr whose life had 
gone out beyond the receding tide of oblivious cen- 
turies? He laughed at the idea. Yet, laugh as he 
would, in his dreams the vision of a beautiful, 
classical face with soft dark eyes and noble brow 
surrounded by a mass of dark clustering curls 
would float before him and gaze fondly, sadly and 
dreamily into his eyes with a thoughtful, loving 
look that seemed to read the very depths of his 
soul. “Nonsense,” he thought, “who ever heard of 
a man falling in love with a woman who had been 
dead for fourteen centuries; and then, perhaps 
after all Hypatia did not in any way resemble the 
face portrayed upon the canvas.” 

Still, the truth gradually forced itself upon his 
mind that even though he were not in love, he was, 
at least, very lonely at times. There was something 
lacking to complete his happiness, and this some- 
thing, he concluded at last, was the want of an 
Eve for his Modern Eden. 

He longed for the companionship of some sweet 
young creature whose intellectual tastes were 
similar to his own — one whose life was not hope- 
lessly bound up with the petty vanities of society ; 
but where was such a fair young companion to 
be found? Not in the village to be sure; nor 
could he remember of meeting with one during 
all his years of intercourse with the world. No, 
there were none like the fair vision that haunted 
his dreams. But, was it not possible that some- 


Satan of the Modern World. 45 

how, some time, somewhere, through some strange 
freak of destiny, he might meet the reincarnation 
of Hypatia — one who could love him with a deep, 
pure, ethereal love such as he alone could lavish 
on a fair creature of that mental and physical 
mould? Ah, if it could only be, if it were only 
possible that a maiden such as she were in ex- 
istence to-day ; “but pshaw, I am getting foolish/’ 
he thought, “to allow myself to be carried away by 
a mere fancy. There is no modern Hypatia. 
There was but one ; there can never be another.” 

But here his thoughts were interrupted by the 
clock striking the half-hour, and he was brought 
back to the world of reality and made conscious 
of the fact that he had only a half hour in 
which to prepare for church. Thus, dismissing all 
thoughts of Hypatia and philosophy from his 
mind, he passed on to his room, from which he 
emerged a half hour later very neat and graceful 
in appearance. There was no vanity or conceit 
in his make-up, yet he was very particular about 
his personal appearance and always dressed in 
the latest fashion. 

As usual, at the village on Sunday, the church 
w r as well filled, for there was absolutely no other 
place to go, even though some few had felt in- 
clined to go elsewhere, which no one was, for in 
this strictly Puritan community there was none 
but those who considered it their foremost duty 
to be in church at least once on Sunday and listen 
to the words of wisdom and grace that fell from 
the venerated preacher’s lips. As Harry and his 
strange companion entered the church there was 
a slight ripple of excitement, caused no doubt by 


46 Satan of the Modern World. 

the odd appearance of the Celestial, who, by the 
way, was the first of his kind ever seen at the vil- 
lage, and, in fact, by many of the villagers. The 
Deacon, being one of the nshers, showed them to a 
seat well to the back of the church, and many 
were the looks of curiosity and astonishment cast 
in their direction as Fung Wung followed up the 
aisle clad in a rich purple robe of Oriental tog- 
gery. 

From where they sat Harry could get a good 
view of the entire congregation gathered, but, 
owing to the fact that his acquaintance was lim- 
ited, he naturally recognized but few of the faces 
he saw. As a few belated worshippers came 
straggling in, breaking the dull monotony which 
preceded the service, he began to look around 
and study the faces of those near him, but seeing 
none that interested him his eyes continued to 
wander listlessly over the throng until they rested 
on the stem and rugged countenance of a white- 
haired man whom he had often seen on the streets 
of Verne — a man whose proud and noble bearing 
indicated that he was a person of considerable 
importance in the affairs of the village — a man 
whom he remembered as being a friend of his 
father; Judge Randolph, an eminent jurist who 
at one time had been elected to the Supreme 
Court of the State, but had now retired to private 
life and was living on his farm half a mile to the 
east of the village. His face attracted Harry’s 
attention, particularly on account of the stern 
mould of the features. His appearance plainly 
indicated that he had been an extremely hand- 
some man in his younger days, when the lines 


Satan of the Modem World. 47 

about the mouth were less firmly drawn and the 
clustering locks of snow-white hair were dark 
waving ringlets, when the strong, yet aged form 
was lithe and active with the warm blood of 
youth. Intellect, force, uncompromising purity 
of life and an iron will were all written there, 
yet beneath it all, beneath a stem and rugged ex- 
terior, beat a heart as kind and gentle as that of 
a child. 

From the stern face of the Judge his eyes wan- 
dered to that of the elderly lady by his side, whom 
he correctly surmised to be his wife. She, too, 
must have been an extremely beautiful woman in 
her youth and the prime of life, for her features 
still bore abundant traces of that soft, dreamy 
beauty which had once made her admired and 
loved by all who knew her. But her beauty was 
the direct antithesis of that of her husband. Hers 
was soft, sweet and sunny, with eyes large and 
gentle, from which shone a world of sympathy 
and love. It was a strange facial contrast he saw 
in this aged, yet handsome couple. In one he 
saw the rugged, solemn grandeur of an Arctic 
winter, in the other the soft, dreamy beauty of 
the moonlight nights beneath the tropic skies of 
the Orient. 

Again the door opened to admit a late arrival. 
A tall, queenly figure entered and walked grace- 
fully up the aisle and stopped directly in front 
of the pew in which the Randolphs were seated. 
The stern face of the Judge relaxed into a pleas- 
ant smile, and arising he stepped out into the 
aisle and allowed the newcomer to take a seat be- 
tween himself and Mrs. Randolph. It w r as but a 


48 Satan of the Modem World. 

fleeting glimpse that Harry caught of the maiden’s 
face as she entered, but that glimpse was suffi- 
cient to tell him that it was a face of more than 
ordinary beauty and intelligence. 

“That must surely be the old gentleman’s 
daughter/’ he thought, and then he remembered — 
— when, where or how, he could not remember — • 
having heard that Judge Randolph had a daughter, 
a very beautiful and accomplished young lady 
who was studying music in Boston. He remem- 
bered it only vaguely now, for he doubted not 
at the time that they judged her accomplishments 
as incorrectly as they had the ability of their 
preacher. 

At the sound of the organ pealing forth its 
dismal notes he was brought back to the realiza- 
tion that he was in church, a fact he had entirely 
forgotten, and arising with the congregation he 
joined in the singing of a hymn, his fine baritone 
voice being heard above all the rest. When they 
were seated again the preacher announced that 
on the following Wednesday evening would he the 
weekly prayer meeting, and that everyone was ex- 
pected to he present. Those who had not the grace 
of God in their hearts were earnestly requested to 
attend. Also, that on Thursday evening there 
would he a strawberry festival at the home of the 
Honorable Judge Randolph, for the purpose of 
raising funds with which to defray the current 
expenses of the church. Everyone was cordially 
invited; supper, twenty-five cents each. 

The choir sang again, then the preacher arose 
and began a sermon, which, though no doubt the 
greatest effort of his life, was not at all interest- 


Satan of the Modem World. 49 

ing to the one for whom it had been especially 
prepared, being, as usual, but a repetition of trite 
sayings and Scriptural quotations, and which he 
had heard a hundred times and in almost as many 
different lands. As he sat waiting patiently for 
something interesting to transpire, the words of 
a noted skeptic, whom he had asked to accompany 
him to church in London several years before, 
came forcibly back to his mind: “I would go if 
I thought they had any new arguments to present, 
but they never do. I attend a church about once a 
year, or as often as I hear of a preacher of reputed 
ability, hoping for something new and grand ; but 
no, it is always the same old jokes they have been 
preaching for do these eighteen hundred years/ ” 

And so Harry Brown, sitting in the old village 
church that, beautiful Sunday morning, with the 
bright sunlight streaming in through the stained- 
glass windows filling the church with a multitude 
of bright, blended colors, with the birds singing 
joyfully among the whispering branches of the 
maples just outside, instead of seeking spiritual 
light and truth as a poor “benighted heathen” 
should, or endeavoring at least to comprehend the 
incomprehensible arguments the preacher was 
making for his especial benefit, he deliberately 
drew a pencil from his pocket and began compil- 
ing statistics on his own account. 

“Now,” thought he, “there are fifty-two Sundays 
in the year, Christianity has been preached for 
.eighteen hundred years, which, multiplied, would 
make ninety-three thousand and six hundred days 
it has been preached continuously. Oh, yes, there 
are two sermons a day — a fact that has slipped 


50 Satan of the Modern World. 

away from me during my long period of spiritual 
darkness — which would make one hundred and 
eighty-seven thousand and two hundred. Now, let 
me see : There are supposed to be about four hun- 
dred and seventy million Christians in the world 
to-day, and supposing there are a hundred mem- 
bers to a parish that would make four million and 
seven hundred thousand churches and congrega- 
tions, which, multiplied by the number of sermons 
for each congregation would give the modest re- 
sult of eight hundred and seventy-nine billion, 
eight hundred and forty million times this blessed 
gospel has been preached to the unwilling ear of 
man. But even that is too low an estimate, for I 
had forgotten all about revivals and the Salvation 
Army, which is always on the preach. Nor does 
the fact that there are more churches to-day than 
in the early centuries count for anything, and if 
the exact truth could be known concerning the 
matter it would probably be found that my figures, 
enormous as they may seem, are yet too small by 
one-half ^t least. 

“And what is the result? What has actually 
been accomplished through this vast output of 
exhortation, energy and wealth which has been 
poured into the greedy paw of the church for 
eighteen weary centuries? In spite of the vast 
number of times this message has been expounded 
to the people, in spite of the vast amount of 
energy and brain that has been expended, in 
spite of the enormous wealth of which hu- 
manity has been denuded through the fear 
of Hell, we find that less than a quarter of 
the human family have received the light, less than 


Satan of the Modern World. 51: 

a quarter that call themselves ‘followers of the 
Lamb/ One quarter of these ‘earn’ their bread 
and butter by advocating its numerous creeds, an- 
other quarter make an outward display of piety 
-for the social and business prestige it affords, 
while as many more inherit their religion from 
their parents and never know more about the 
origin or truth of the system, and possibly care 
less that I do as to whether Adam was a blond 
or brunette.” 

Just what the shortcomings of the remaining 
quarter may have been we shall never know, for 
his musings were interrupted by a sudden silence 
and he discovered that the sermon was ended and 
Judge Randolph and “Deacon” Thompson were 
coming around for the collection, quite the most 
important part of the service, and one that is 
never omitted from the program. “They may cut 
the sermon short,” he thought, “they may cut the 
exercises short in many ways, but never yet have 
they been guilty of cutting the collection short.” 

He also saw that the Judge was coming in his 
direction, and, nudging the Chinaman, he gave 
him a silver dollar which that gaily robed individ- 
ual dropped into the plate while Harry himself 
dropped in a shining gold coin. The bearer of the 
plate bowed politely as he saw it and passed on 
with the shadow of a smile on his hard face, for 
apparently he had not met such liberality very 
eften. The Parson had noticed the bow and the 
smile which followed and was anxiously awaiting 
the return of the plate, for, to say the least, that 
was a queer performance on the part of the Judge. 
When the entire congregation had been waited 


52 Satan of the Modem World. 

on and the plates placed on a stand near him he 
craned his neck so as to see what it was that had 
so much pleased the Judge, and evidently he dis- 
covered what it was for he settled back contentedly 
in his chair with a satisfied expression on his face. 

There was a slight rustling of skirts, and the 
tall and graceful figure sitting in the Randolph 
pew arose and walked silently down the aisle, past 
the pulpit, and standing in front of where the 
choir was seated, faced the congregation. Harry, 
who had noted with eyes glowing with admiration 
the grace and perfect ease with which she moved, 
gave a great start and could scarcely suppress a cry 
of astonishment as his eyes rested on her face. 
His frame quivered with intense emotion, his 
heart seemed to stand still, his breath came in 
short, sharp gasps, for there before him, in the full 
radiance of her glorious womanly beauty, calm 
and serene as the morning star, stood the living, 
breathing image of the radiant vision which had 
haunted his dreams for long weeks past — the per- 
sonification of all that was beautiful, noble and in- 
tellectual — even as he had fancied the fair young 
Hypatia to be. As in his dreams he saw the same 
broad, noble brow above which waved a great 
mass of clustering curls, the same eyes, large, dark, 
and filled with soft, dreamy beauty, the same 
perfect features of classic mould. 

The organist began playing the prelude and 
as she raised her eyes and looked towards the cor- 
ner where Harry sat, attracted there by the bright 
raiment of the Mongolian, they met his with a look 
never to be forgotten. For a moment she con- 
tinued to gaze as though spellbound while the un- 


Satan of the Modem World. 53 

fathomable depths of her soul shone out through 
her great lustrous orbs; then, with an effort, she 
turned her eyes away while her face blanched 
whiter than the driven snow, and bright pink spots 
burned for an instant on either cheek. 

The organist finished the prelude, the look of 
calm self-possession returned to the maiden’s 
face, and she took up the lines of the song (what 
it was he could never remember, so enraptured was 
he, more than it was a song of the Resurrection) — 
a song of such sweet and wondrous beauty as he 
had fancied in his boyhood that only angels sang. 
She sang it with a voice so sadly sweet it seemed 
to the devoted congregation sitting there that the 
heavens had burst asunder and a benediction of 
peace had settled upon their humble place of wor- 
ship. When the song was ended and the echoes of 
that glorious voice had died away, Harry Brown, 
dreamer, philosopher and traveler, who had drunk 
at the fount of art and culture in all the lands 
of the globe, realized that there, in that old wooden 
village church that Sunday morning, he had. 
listened to the most wondrous voice he had ever 
heard. 

Trembling with an emotion he could not sup- 
press he arose while the benediction was pro- 
nounced. The Parson was waiting for him at the 
end of the aisle with a smile of satisfaction and 
happiness on his face, for to his way of thinking 
the occasion had been successful in every respect. 

“I am so glad to see you here to-day, Mr. 
Brown,” he said, almost gleefully. “It is so beauti- 
ful a day, and we have just listened to such a 
beautiful" song that no wonder all earth seems 


54 Satan of the Modern World. 

happy for once. Ah, we are fortunate indeed to- 
day ! How did you like the services ?” 

“Splendid, splendid indeed,” replied Harry, who 
was almost as happy as the preacher, though he 
did not inform him that there was hut one part 
of the service of which he had the slightest recol- 
lection. 

“Then I hope you will not now forget the way 
down here,” said the Parson, encouragingly. 

“There is no danger whatever, sir,” was the 
ready answer, “for I shall come every Sunday from 
this day forward. I had never supposed the 
church to be such an interesting place,” he added 
with a smile, though he might have explained that 
it offered a good excuse for his presence there, 
nothing more. 

“Thank you! Thank you!” said the Parson, 
supposing, of course, it was partly on account of 
the brilliant sermon he delivered. “But there are 
some people here with whom I should like you to 
become acquainted” (“and you are no more anx- 
ious than I, sir,” Harry was thinking) . “Ah, here 
they are now ! Mr. Randolph, allow me to introduce 
to you Mr. Brown, a young friend of mine of whom 
you have doubtless heard ere this. Mr. Brown, this 
is Mr. Randolph.” 

The two men shook hands heartily. 

“I am happy to meet you, Mr. Brown,” said the 
Judge. “Your father and I used to he bosom 
friends in our younger days, and, though I never 
saw him after he left here, we corresponded up to 
the time of his death. Poor Harry, he was a noble 
fellow; and you, too, are almost the image of 
him. But you don’t look much like the little red- 


Satan of the Modern World. 

faced chap I saw down in the churchyard the day 
your poor mother was laid to rest. You must be- 
come acquainted with my wife and daughter, how- 
ever. My wife, Mrs. Eandolph, Mr. Brown.” 

Harry bowed almost reverently as he took the 
hand of the sweet-faced, white-haired lady in his. 

“And this, Mr. Brown, is our daughter Virginia, 
who has just come back to us after a year’s 
absence.” 

Harry was greatly agitated as the maiden of- 
fered him her hand, yet he managed to find some 
words with which to express his pleasure at the 
meeting. As their eyes met the maiden’s face 
blanched again, again her dark eyes looked into 
his as though drawn and held there by some in- 
visible power, but the emotion passed away as 
quickly as it came and with a smile of pleasure 
on her lips she said in a half jesting tone : 

“And so, Mr. Brown, it is you of whom I have 
heard so many strange rumors?” 

“I don’t know, I am sure,” was the laughing re- 
joinder. “Am I noted in the community as an ec- 
centric character?” 

“Yes, indeed,” said Virginia with a bright 
smile. “I have heard so much about you, your 
tiny Moorish palace with its minarets— steeples 
as they call them here — the artificial lake and ad- 
joining park, and more particularly the strange 
room with its skulls and bones and curious speci- 
mens. Of course, that all seems marvelous to the 
people hereabouts, hence the notoriety you enjoy. 
I see, too, that part of the rumor is true, that of 
your strange household,” and she glanced over to 
where Fung was waiting patiently by the door. 


$6 Satan of the Modem World. 

“Then you. have never passed our home ?” asked 
Harry. 

“No, not in the last three years. Those years, 
except two months of each summer and the holi- 
days, have been taken up with my studies. But 
now that you and papa have become acquainted I 
will have him drive past there, for I am curious 
to behold the enchanted palace of which I have 
heard so much. It would be a pleasure, too, to 
visit your museum, as I suppose your archeological 
collection is quite comprehensive and that is a 
branch of science in which I am interested. But 
I see papa is waiting for me so I must bid you 
good bye. You will come to the social Thursday 
evening ?” 

“Most assuredly,” said he, gallantly, “it will 
be one of the real pleasures of my life.” 

And thus they met and parted that Sunday 
morning. 

“Here you, Bunny Wung,” said he, going out- 
side and speaking with a flippancy he was far 
from feeling, “you can go home alone. Tell Mary 
she can look for me home to dinner at four o’clock. 
I will walk home when I feel like it. Good bye.” 

“What strange freak of destiny is this,” he 
muttered aloud as he left the church and walked 
down towards the cemetery. “Are my dreams to 
come true after all ? Are the fond hopes that have 
taken complete possession of my body and soul to 
be realized at last? Is this fair maiden the per- 
sonification indeed of all that is beautiful and 
pure and intellectual? Or is it really Hypatia 
come to earth again to fulfill the mission she left 
incomplete, to lift the world to a higher plane of 


Satan of the Modem World. 57 

civilization by the purity of her life and the force 
of her genius? Gods, it may be so, for never be- 
fore, never since, has genius such as hers burned 
in the soul of woman. Has she, too, this maiden 
fair, her ideal of true manhood, even as I have 
mine? Is she, too, a dreamer, vague, visionary 
and fanciful ? Oh, fate ! with what mysteries you 
confront us, and how feehle is man in the struggle 
against thy decrees. Ofttimes we wish we could 
read them like an open book and thus escape the 
disappointments that must come to each and all; 
but perhaps it is better as it is, better that we are 
happy to-day in hope of what the morrow may 
bring forth.” 

His mind was still buried in deep thought as 
he reached the cemetery and threw himself down 
on the soft green grass beneath the spreading 
branches of a giant oak beside his mother’s grave, 
and there he still lay when the sun was well down 
towards the western horizon with Mary’s four 
o’clock dinner still untouched. 


58 Satan of the Modem World. 


CHAPTER V. 

VIRGINIA RANDOLPH. 

Judge Randolph, whom the community had 
for years looked up to as patriarch of the village, 
and a man somewhat above the ordinary race of 
mortals, came from a long line of noble ancestors, 
many of whom had figured conspicuously in the 
history and development of the country, from the 
earliest Colonial times. It was often, with con- 
siderable, and no doubt justifiable pride that he 
[recounted the many deeds of valor performed in 
stirring times of war, from the great civil strife 
in which he had participated, fighting bravely 
through the four long weary years, hack to the 
Revolution wherein his great-grandfather, Edmund 
Randolph, had fought side by side with Washing- 
ton and his compatriots in the struggle for in- 
dependence. 

His grandfather, also Edmund Randolph, and 
two brothers had won immortal fame in the War 
of 1812, while the Judge himself had particularly 
distinguished himself by his patriotism and daunt- 
less courage in throwing his life and energy into 
the great struggle of ’61 to trample out the fires 
of sectionalism and save the Union from dissolu- 
tion. 

It was a strange mixture of character he was 


Satan of the Modem World. 59 

found to possess to one who had fathomed the 
depth of his stern and rugged soul. He had a 
splendid physique, lithe, graceful and powerful; 
stern, proud and classic features which were hand- 
some when they relaxed from the stern realities 
of life ; a will of iron, yet a sublime courage to do 
right as he saw the right; possessing, in fact, 
all the qualities that make heroes and build up 
empires — qualities which he rightfully inherited 
from his ancestors who had never shirked a duty 
or faltered in their devotion to their country. 

In religion he clung to the unyielding orthodoxy 
that came from England with the early Puritans ; 
yet, strange to relate, for one of his religious 
mould, he was one of the most cultured and 
courteous men in the w r orld when dealing or as- 
sociating with men of honor, while those who were 
not of that stamp he shunned as he would a loath- 
some serpent. Beneath his rugged exterior beat a 
heart that was warm and generous — a heart that 
was as soft and gentle as that of a child, which 
always went out to those who strove to be free from 
sin and were less fortunate than he. 

He was educated and cultured to a high degree, 
had mingled well with the world and knew its 
ways, its vanities and follies, he was deeply read, 
highly gifted by nature, and adding to all this the 
manners of the typical Southern gentleman it is 
not difficult to understand his prestige and influ- 
ence among the people of the village. His man- 
ners and courteous disposition he inherited from 
his gifted mother, who came from an old Virginian 
family quite as noted in the annals of their coun- 
try as were the Randolphs. His father had come 


6o Satan of the Modern World. 


to the village when but a young man, bringing 
with him his fair young Southern bride, and set- 
tled on a large tract of land which was the present 
homestead of the Judge, his only son. The father 
being of a very frugal and industrious disposi- 
tion had accumulated quite a fortune, which at 
the time of his death he bequeathed to his son, 
Howard, then a promising young lawyer. 

Besides the fortune of his father, Howard Ran- 
dolph had received a splendid education, having 
graduated at the age of twenty-five from the law 
department of Yale, and a year later was admitted 
to the practice of law at Ford Falls, the county 
seat, seven miles from Yerne. His career as a 
lawyer had been a short but brilliant one, so bril- 
liant, in fact, that three years later he was elected 
county judge, a position he filled with signal 
ability. He had held the position scarcely a year 
when Fort Sumter was fired upon and the patri- 
otism of the North aroused to a higher pitch than 
was ever possible before or since, and resigning his 
office he offered his services in the suppression 
of the great insurrection which threatened the 
very life of the Republic. Being stationed in Vir- 
ginia in the early days of the war he met and fell 
in love with a beautiful young girl, the daughter 
of a Confederate officer of high rank, and when he 
came back to the village of Yerne at the close of 
the war he came not alone'but brought with him 
a fair daughter of the South, who loved him even 
when fighting against her own flesh and blood, 
her home and kindred. So great was his popular- 
ity at that time that he was elected to the Supreme 
Court of the state, and it was while serving this 


Satan of the Modem World. 61 


term that Virginia, their only child, was born. 
When released from his office he retired forever 
from the practice of law and from active political 
life, saying that he had all the wealth, honors and 
happiness his heart desired. 

And indeed, a happier family than that of Judge 
Randolph's never lived within the borders of the 
state, and never did a sweet young maiden grow to 
womanhood with so many surrounding influences 
to spoil her for any useful purpose in life as did 
Virginia, and never was a deaf and more unwilling 
ear turned to the vanities and flatteries of the 
world than hers. Her parents regarded her with 
a feeling more akin to ethereal worship than 
earthly love; yet the love they lavished on their 
only child was returned by one as deep and last- 
ing, for she not only believed in the command, 
“Honor thy father and thy mother,” but with her 
it was a law of being and became a part of her 
daily life. 

A strange girl indeed was Virginia Randolph. 
Ho wealth, no flattery, no allurement of society 
could turn her head. Everything that wealth, 
position and the influence of an honored name 
could command were laid at her feet ; yet, beauti- 
ful, gifted, wealthy and flattered, and the pride 
of all who knew her, she grew to womanhood in a 
world of temptation and sin as pure as a vestal 
virgin, and with but one thought in life, that of 
devoting her life to philosophy. In early life 
she had developed a marked genius for music 
and painting and her parents had given her every 
advantage that they could provide. At the age 
of seventeen she had graduated from the high 


62 Satan of the Modem World. 


school at Ford Falls, and acquired some local 
reputation as a musician and had painted some 
works which gave promise of future fame. The 
following three years she had spent in Boston 
studying music and art, and, unbeknown to her 
parents, had also studied science and had made 
extensive researches into the history and philoso- 
phy of the past. It was her parents’ wish that she 
take a full college course, but she insisted that it 
was better to understand a few branches thor- 
oughly in which she was interested than spend 
even an hour studying that which would neither 
interest her or be of practical benefit to her. She 
studied music and painting because she had posi- 
tive genius for both, and cared not to bury her 
talents in the ground, and science because it had 
a fascination for her that she could not resist. 
During those three years she had been a pupil of 
one of the most profound scholars of the scientific 
world and had gained a comprehensive knowledge 
of the various and conflicting theories of philoso- 
phy, and, having pursued her researches with mind 
free from all religious creed and scientific dogma, 
she was thus well qualified to judge as to what 
was and what was not worthy of acceptance. She 
had made deep researches into ancient history as 
far as was possible from the few glimpses of a 
dim and misty past which the investigator can 
discern through and beyond the fragments of 
records that have come down to us from the races 
of remote antiquity. She had solved some of the 
most perplexing problems to her own satisfaction, 
and one of the objects of her life was to solve them 
to the satisfaction of the world. 


Satan of the Modern World. 63 

It was during her last year in Boston that some 
of her best works were exhibited to the public, 
and some of them had created quite a sensation 
in the world of art, and were always welcomed to 
the galleries of that cultured city. It was about 
the time she was coming to be recognized as an 
artist of rare genius that she bade farewell to her 
fellow students and came back to her country 
home where she could make the remaining years of 
her aged parents cheerful and happy, where, 
amid the peaceful serenity of nature, she could 
pursue her favorite studies and speculations. 

Such, in brief, was the family of Judge Ran- 
dolph. Let us then look in upon them and catch 
a glimpse of their home life as it is being enacted 
on the Thursday following their meeting with 
Harry Brown at the village church. 

The house has changed but little since the day 
of its completion except for many signs of con- 
tact with the tireless hand of time. It is a large 
ancestral structure, wooden, weather-beaten, and 
consisting of a square upright with a long ram- 
bling wing on the back. Just exactly what this 
wing was built for no one appears to have known 
for it has never been used for anything in particu- 
lar; and in fact the whole house appears to have 
been built more with the idea of impressing the 
more humble neighbors than of making a com- 
fortable home. It certainly had not been built 
for beauty or ease, though in summer it was cool 
and delightful with its broad porch extending 
nearly around the house and overhung with a mass 
of trailing vines. The rooms were too large to 
give an appearance of comfort, yet they were neat 


64 Satan of the Modern World. 

and clean and as comfortable as was possible for 
rooms of their size to look. 

As we glance in npon them and through the 
house this particular afternoon we find that for 
the first time in its history the rambling old 
wing has been utilized, that Virginia, since her re- 
turn home, has appropriated it altogether to her 
own use. At her request the Judge had remodelled 
it, tearing out all the partitions, had the walls 
newly painted and frescoed, leaving only a small 
room in one corner which looked out upon the lawn, 
and which she used for a study. It was in the 
large room that she hung her fine collection of 
paintings, most of them her own work. 

Across the lawn from Virginia’s study, in the 
corner of the upright, was the parlor, and in there 
we find the Judge seated in an easy-chair trying 
hard to read a book he was holding in his hand. 
Mrs. Randolph was by the open window gazing 
absently out at some beds of flowers that were just 
bursting into bloom, while Virginia had lately 
come in and was quietly seated at the piano in the 
far end of the room looking over some music 
with the intention of playing. The Judge 
seemed to have something on his mind that over- 
shadowed all interest in the book, for he rested 
his chin upon his hand and gazed absently out 
through the open window and far away into the 
distance; then, at length, he closed the book and 
laid it down by his side. 

“Don’t you think, Mary,” he said, slowly and 
thoughtfully, as though pondering deeply over his 
words, “that young Harry Brown is a strange sort 
of a fellow?” 


Satan of the Modern World. 65 

The figure by the window started slightly at 
the question. “No stranger than that we should 
both be thinking of the same thing, Howard/* 
said she, smiling. “Yes, very strange indeed; yet 
he impressed me as being a very gentle and man- 
nerly young man.** 

“Well,** continued the Judge, musingly, as 
though more to himself than his wife, “after 
all the rumors that have been afloat concerning 
him, then to find him so refined in manners, so 
handsome and noble in appearance, so young look- 
ing for his years and yet with such a thoughtful 
face, *tis strange indeed.** 

“It seems a peculiar circumstance, Howard,*’ 
said his wife, “now that you have mentioned it, 
that he has been back here so long and you have 
never called to see him, or even met him until 
last Sunday; considering, too, that you and his 
father used to be such good friends.** 

The Judge seemed lost in thought for a moment, 
then replied: 

“Well, it does seem strange now, but then, you 
know I am an old man and care but little for the 
society of young fellows, especially such as rumor 
had represented him to be. They say that he is 
wealthy — a fact which all appearances seem to 
bear witness — and he must have gained some of it 
himself, for his father was a man of limited 
means when he lived here. He often wrote, how- 
ever, that he was doing well, but I do not believe 
he left any such wealth as Harry has at his com- 
mand to-day. From what rumor said I had fan- 
cied him to be a reckless young fellow who, 
through strange freak of fortune, or bold specu- 


66 Satan of the Modem World. 

lation had gained considerable wealth and came 
here to build np a pretty home away from the 
sight of the world where, in imaginary splendor, 
he could live a life of debauchery and sin as many 
prodigal sons in like circumstances would do. 
They have said that he preferred the society of 
Chinese and South Sea Islanders to that of his 
own race, that he was a blasphemous infidel with 
no respect for God or man, and his seeming re- 
luctance to mingle in the social life of those 
around him gave color to the rumors and con- 
vinced me that there was some foundation to 
them. Had it not been that I gave them credence 
I most certainly would have sought his acquaint- 
ance and friendship long ere this.” 

“I am sure there could have been no foundation 
for the reports that have been going round,” said 
Mrs. Randolph, “for to me he looks like a man who 
lives a pure and honest life.” 

“Oh, it’s undoubtedly a mistake,” said the 
J udge, positively, “for unless I can no longer read 
human nature aright, he appears to me to be a 
man of high, noble purpose — one who would go to 
the very gates of death for a principle he believed 
to be right. There may be some excellent reasons 
for his seeming reluctance to associate with the 
people here, his life has been a busy one for one 
thing, but whatever it was it could not have been 
a discreditable one. That the rumors were but 
idle tales I can no longer doubt, for external ap- 
pearances alone are sufficient to refute them.” 

As he ceased speaking he withdrew his eyes 
from the distant landscape, looked thoughtfully 
at the figure by the window for a few moments. 


Satan of the Modem World. 67 

then at the book by his side. Silence, in the mean- 
time, reigned throughout the room. Virginia 
was still seated at the piano, a quiet listener to the 
conversation of her parents, who were wholly un- 
aware of her presence in the room. The silence 
was soon broken by her mother, who said : 

“It was very kind of him, anyway, to send down 
asking if we would accept a bushel of strawberries 
for the social to-night/’ 

“Yes, indeed,” acquiesced the Judge, cheerfully, 
“for otherwise we would have been put to con- 
siderable trouble in the matter. I should have been 
obliged to call on some of the neighbors in order 
to have enough to go around. Somehow the 
brethren seem to be forgetful of the fact that 
strawberries are a very important factor to the 
success of a social,” and again he took up his 
hook with the intention of reading, but the 
effort proved another failure for the Judge that 
day. Evidently there was something on his mind 
of more importance than he had yet disclosed. 
“Mary,” said he, thoughtfully, “did it ever occur 
to you that we are growing old, very old ?” 

Mrs. Randolph laughed. “Yes, Howard,” she 
said, softly and dreamily, “I often think of it; 
but why do you speak of it to-day?” 

“I was thinking of Virginia,” he said, with a 
touch of tenderness in his tone. “I was thinking 
that some day, not many years hence, we would 
both pass away, and she will be left alone to battle 
with a cruel and selfish world. It is not that I 
am afraid to die, even though life has been to 
me but a long and happy dream ; but when I think 
of her it casts a shadow athwart the pathway of 


68 Satan of the Modem World. 


my few remaining years. And when my time does 
come to die, which, for her sake, I hope will be 
in the distant future, I want to see her happily 
wedded to some honest and worthy man. I won- 
der of what she and Harry Brown were thinking 
when they met in church Sunday? Both seemed 
strangely agitated when their eyes met, and yet 
I am sure it was their first meeting. I hope he 
is as generous and noble as he appears to be ; and, 
Mary, what would you think were they really to 
fall in love with each other ?” 

The white-haired lady at the window made no 
immediate reply, but the maiden rose quickly from 
the piano and glided silently from the room, her 
breast heaving with emotion and her fair face 
flushed crimson. 

“If he is worthy of her,” continued the Judge, 
“I trust it may be so, for I hope to see her happily 
married ere I am called to my last account. There 
are many young men who would consider them- 
selves fortunate indeed could they win the heart 
of our child, but she has ideas so different from 
most girls that few men have tastes and ambitions 
that would harmonize with hers. But there comes 
a carriage up the lane ; I wonder who it can be ?” 
and he arose and went to the door. “Ah, I see, 
it is that Chinaman bringing those berries from 
Brown’s.” 

The carriage came on and stopped at the door 
and, sure enough, it was Fung Wung. 


Meanwhile Virginia, after having left the parlor 
so suddenly, had gone to her study where she stood 


Satan of the Modem World. 69 

looking, for some time, out through the window 
with a strange light burning in her dark dreamy 
eyes, endeavoring to still the wild tumult that 
was raging in her breast and master the half mad 
thoughts which were surging like a seething bil- 
low of flame through her brain shaking her soul 
to its very foundations. Fierce as was the strug- 
gle there was but little outward indication that a 
powerful will was battling with still more powerful 
emotions — emotions, too, that had been unknown 
to her until a pair of thoughtful grey eyes had 
looked into the depths of hers a few days before. 
An expression of serenity finally stole over her 
face telling that she was once more the dreamer 
and philosopher, willing to accept whatever fate 
had in store for her, be it sorrow or happiness. 
With a peaceful smile illuminating her face she 
turned from the window to a desk standing near, 
and, unlocking a drawer therein, she drew forth 
a large canvas neatly and carefully rolled up 
which she handled in a caressing manner for a 
moment. Then she untied the delicate ribbon 
by which it was unbound and unrolled and spread 
it out upon the library table in the center of the 
room. As she did so and gazed upon the scene 
of tragic and wondrous beauty before her her face 
lit up with a tender smile, while from her eyes 
shone a faraway light that is seldom seen and 
never understood by cold, unfeeling humanity 
in these practical days. As she continued to gaze 
the smile lingered playfully about her lips for a 
moment, then the expression changed to one of 
infinite pity and sadness. 

“Oh, relentless, inexorable fate !” she murmured 


70 Satan of the Modern World. 

softly, as two shining tears gathered in her great 
dark eyes and rolled down her damask cheeks, 
“that condemns the bravest and best of the chil- 
dren of men to stand as a rock against the ebb and 
flow of superstition’s fitful, changing, heartless 
sea ! Why, oh why is it that the noblest and best 
should, through all the ages that have passed, be 
sacrificed to the avarice and hate of a corrupt and 
irrational traditionalism? Is there, can there in 
some remote corner of the universe, be a wise, a 
merciful and all-seeing God who watches over 
and guides the footsteps of His erring children 
here below? Is there a God who reveals to them 
the truth, the way and the life? Why, then, does 
truth, in the great realm of thought, become so 
far engulfed beneath the waves of a corrupt theo- 
logical sea that centuries of the most heroic sac- 
rifice are required to reclaim it ? 

“Ho, no, I cannot believe there is a God, that 
back of nature there is an intelligent force which 
rules the universe and controls the destinies of 
man. Nature, and nature alone creates us, leaves 
us to struggle for existence as best we can, to live 
a few years, mayhap, in wretchedness and want 
with blasted lives and hopes, then to return to dust 
from whence we came.” 

From the scene upon the canvas her thoughts 
wandered back to the one in the old village church 
but a few days before when she had looked into a 
pair of deep grey eyes which seemed the windows 
of a soul with infinite depths beyond, depths that 
staggered her, deep and profound as was she her- 
self. 

“What a strange resemblance,” she murmured. 


Satan of the Modern World. 71 

looking at the canvas again, “and I wonder if the 
life blood coursing through his heart beats with 
the same lofty heroism, the same love for hu- 
manity and the same unyielding purity of soul? 
If he comes to-night — and I hope he will — I will 
wrest the secret from his heart and if he is found 
wanting, then, Harry Brown, as far as this life 
is concerned, farewell, for we shall never meet 
again. If you are unworthy, the great love that 
is budding in my heart for thee will wither and 
die ere it blossoms into the fulness of perfection, 
aye, as suddenly as it sprang into existence.” 

She rolled up the canvas and laid it carefully 
away again. 

“But he is not unworthy,” she murmured, softly 
and hopefully. “The light that shone from his 
honest grey eyes told me more plainly than words 
could have done the true nobility of his soul, and 
the heroic mould of his character.” 

“Virginia,” called her mother at that moment, 
“you are wanted here. Those berries have come 
and Mr. Brown sent a note saying if we needed 
any help Mr. Fung Wung could stay, as he was 
not needed at home. Shall we keep him?” 

“If Mr. Brown can spare him perhaps we ought 
to,” she replied, “for it is getting rather late, 
and there is plenty to do.” Then, turning to Fung, 
she asked: “Are you sure you are not needed at 
home ?” 

But the Mongolian shook his head, saying : 

“Ho, missee, he no care me stay all day.” 

So while Fung Wung and the Judge brought 
in the baskets, she and her mother brought pans 
and chairs out on the porch where the afternoon 


72 Satan of the Modem World. 

sun came straggling in through the dense foliage 
of overhanging vines leaving it cool and delight- 
ful; then the four sat down, and, with the ex- 
ception of the Judge, were soon busily at work 
picking over the large red strawberries which 
Harry had donated for the social that evening. 

There was no conversation for several minutes. 
Virginia was thinking and was not yet ready to 
talk. 

With her there was nothing in the universe too 
small or simple to be worthy of attention, no 
problem too deep for her to attempt to solve. In 
her earliest years the cruelty and injustice of the 
world had raised doubts in her mind as to there 
being an intelligent force back of nature,, and 
after a profound study of mythology, classic phi- 
losophy and modern science, she had accepted the 
theory of creation as laid down by that eminent 
thinker and scientist, Ernest Haeckel, of Germany. 
She had refrained, and wisely so, no doubt, from 
informing her parents of her change of belief, 
for she knew that nothing could change the faith 
so firmly planted in their hearts, and, even though 
it were possible, she had no desire to do so. She 
resolved instead to make the remaining years of 
their lives as happy as possible and in the mean- 
time quietly pursue her studies; then when the 
day came when she was alone in the world she 
would be well prepared to carry out the life’s 
work as she had planned for the past three years. 

She saw that modern Christianity was torn 
with dissensions, was divided into a multitude 
of warring sects, each struggling for supremacy 
against all others. She saw that the seeds of 


Satan of the Modern World. 73 

decay and death had been widely sown in the ef- 
fort to stamp out heresy and a growing liberalism, 
that disintegration had set in and the downfall 
of Christianity was sure and swift to follow. She 
saw that the power of the church was forever 
broken, that the philosophers of to-day had naught 
to fear from the tires of persecution which had 
once raged with all the fury of religious hatred, 
that they could pursue their investigations into 
the secrets of nature and their researches into the 
history of the past unhampered by the vultures 
of supernatural hate. She saw that the church 
had troubles of its own, that with but few excep- 
tions the preacher of to-day could not suppress 
heresy in his own congregation, that instead of 
dictating from the pulpit as in days gone by, he 
was compelled to preach anything and everything 
that would attract people to church and hold 
them there, no matter how silly it might be. She 
saw that the modern church had pronounced its 
own doom, that it was no longer necessary to point 
out the too evident errors of a dying creed; but 
instead the philosopher of to-day could study 
the causes which led to the downfall of mighty 
empires of the past that possibly such calamities 
could be averted in the future of our own great 
race. Therefore when she saw before her an en- 
lightened representative of a race whose history 
had been lost in the mists of the remote ages of 
the past and was now in the first stages of disin- 
tegration, she became interested in that person 
and that was why she was glad to have Fung Wung 
stay and help them that afternoon. 


74 Satan of the Modern World. 

It was Mrs. Randolph, after all, who broke the 
silence by saying : 

“You have the finest strawberries at your place 
I ever saw.” 

“Yes,” agreed the smilling Fung, “velly fine; 
and heap lots, too. More’n me and Jim and Mary 
can pick some days.” 

“What do you do with all of them ?” 

“Oh, we pick all day and take ’em to Falls. 
Jim he go one morning, me go one morning. Sun- 
day Harry he take ’em and make wine,” said Fung. 

“But if there are more some days than all of 
you can pick, some of them will surely go to waste 
while you are here, won’t they?” asked Virginia. 
“I am afraid Mr. Harry needed your help at 
home more than we do.” 

“Ho, no, he no needee me. He say, ‘You go and 
help, old Funny Wung, and I’ll help Jim to-day,’ ” 
said Fung, at which they all laughed, even the 
stern Judge. “But me bet he won’t, though,” he 
added, “for be no care if berries all spoil.” 

“But doesn’t Mr. Brown work every day?” en- 
quired Mrs. Randolph. 

“Well, no,” admitted Fung rather dubiously. 
“He no workee on farm at all. But he reads velly 
much, write velly much and send away big letters 
to papers. Sometimes he dig holes in ground and 
say funny things ’bout ’em to Jim and me, but we 
no savy. One time we go long way off in woods 
with him and he say, ‘Here, Fung, is Injun mound.’ 
Then we dig and sure nuff firfd dead Injun. Jim 
and me much afraid, but Harry he no afraid ; not 
much. He take skull and sharp stone and crooked 
sticks home and fix ’em up in house.” 


Satan of the Modern World. 7$ 

Mrs. Randolph shivered. 

“Are yon not afraid to stay in the house at 
night with all those things?” she asked. 

“No, not muchee. Harry say there are no such 
things as ghosts, so I no longer afraid,” was the 
answer. 

“Would you mind telling me your name?” 
asked Virginia. 

“Fung Wung my name,” he said, modestly, 
“but sometimes Harry he call me Pig Tail, Funny 
Wung, and Heathen Chinee, but me no care; it 
no hurt when he say it.” 

The maiden laughed merrily at the straight- 
forward simplicity of the Mongolian, whereupon 
the Judge, who had been an attentive and much 
amused listener to the foregoing conversation, 
spoke up, saying: “I hope Brown is good to you 
people ?” 

A very serious expression came over the yellow 
face of Fung Wung as he answered: 

“He ? Oh, he velly, velly good to us. Too good, 
much too good. He no get mad, no say cross word, 
no swear at us or say do more work; he all good 
allee time. In summertime Jim and me work velly 
hard, for we have allee money we can get. More 
work we do more we sell and more money get. 
Harry he say: ‘Save plenty to eat and sell all 
rest and some day you go back to China rich/ In 
winter we no work, only chores, but sit in house 
most all time eat apples, drink cider and play 
cards and pool.” 

“But Mr. Brown does not look like a man who 
drinks much,” interrupted Mrs. Randolph, “and 
indeed, I should hope he does not.” 


y6 Satan of the Modern World. 

“Oh, no!” said Fung in an assuring tone, “he 
no drink much, velly little cider, velly little wine, 
that’s all. Yo smokee, chewee or swearee either; 
no had ’tall, but all good. Sometimes in winter 
we no more want to play cards, then he read nice 
story, velly, velly funny sometimes, too. Other 
day he get lantern that makee pictures on the wall, 
velly funny thing, too, me no remember name.” 

“You mean a stereopticon ?” said Virginia. 

“That’s him, missee; he show nice pictures all 
of ’em Harry see himself.” 

“How would you like to go back to China, 
Fung ?” 

The Mongolian shook his head doubtfully. 

“Me don’t know, missee. Me like China velly 
much, but me like Harry’s place velly much, too. 
Me do heap better here than in China, and me no 
want to leave Harry. Some day he say maybe he 
work the farm, but me no think he will; but I 
no care anyway, he never forget poor Fung.” 

And chatting thus, the hours of the afternoon 
glided away, the maiden asking him all kinds of 
questions about his native land, and he in turn 
telling them all about the temples, the gardens, 
the quaint style of architecture, the missionaries, 
the island on which Harry owned a plantation, the 
beautiful city of Honolulu and the trip across the 
great ocean. 

“Your name is Virginia,” said he, suddenly, 
looking up from the pan of berries on his lap. 

“How did you learn that, Fung?” she asked, 
laughing. 

“Harry he tell me, and say he hear your father 


Satan of the Modern World. 77 

say so at the mission Sunday. He say, too, you 
heap fine singer.” 

The maiden smiled but made no response. 

“How did he like the sermon?” asked the Judge. 

“Oh, me don’t know,” said the Mongolian, look- 
ing wise. “He no hear muchee preaching. He no 
savy much religion. He take pencil and figger all 
time the preacher talked ; but he say the song was 
velly, velly fine.” 

“There, we are through at last !” exclaimed Mrs. 
Eandolph, “and a prettier lot of strawberries I 
never saw before.” 

“And I notice, too,” said the Judge, banter- 
ingly, “that Mr. Fung has picked over nearly half 
of them. I guess it was a good thing, after all, 
that he- stayed.” 

“I suppose Mr. Brown will come to-night,” he 
added, as Fung gathered up his baskets and started 
for the carriage, “and you with him ?” 

“Oh, sure,” was the knowing reply, “he no stay 
away for the world,” and with that he threw his 
baskets in the carriage, clambered in after them 
and drove away, feeling himself to be the happiest 
Chinaman in the land. 


78 Satan of the Modern World 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE FESTIVAL. 

Harry was sitting on the porch as Fung Wung 
came back from the Randolph farm, and the broad 
smile on that individual’s face and the light shin- 
ing from his almond eyes were sufficient to con- 
vince him that something out of the usual order 
of events had transpired. 

“Well, Funny Wung,” said he banteringly, 
“judging from the looks of that face I fancy you 
must have had a very pleasant time at the Judge’s 
house to-day. How about it?” 

“Ah, you bettee ; me have velly fine time !” said 
Fung, his face expanding to the limit. 

“Then they let you stay, did they? Well, how 
did they treat you; the stern-faced Judge in 
particular? Sentenced you to a couple of hours’ 
hard work, I suppose?” 

“Good, velly good. Heap fine man the Judge; 
heap fine talker, too!” 

“Good for you, Funny Wung. And how did 
you like the Judge’s wife? Did she treat you as 
fine as did the Judge?” 

“The old lady?” said Fung. “Oh, she velly 
fine, too. She no talkee much, but plenty listen 
and laugh.” 


Satan of the Modem World. 79 

“Which is equivalent to saying that you did 
not give her a chance. But the Judge, being 
the stronger of the two, managed to crowd in a 
word or two. Well, Funny Wung, what a time 
you must have had indeed; and your visit, viewed 
from a social standpoint, was a glittering success. 
Of course you did not see the young lady?” 

“Yep !” shouted the Chinaman gleefully, “you 
bet me did. She pickee over berries all same as 
me and old lady ; and sit beside Fung Wung, too.” 

“Well, well; how unfortunate I did not go and 
offer my own services,” said Harry, smiling. “Did 
she talk to you, too? I suppose not, of course. 
You wouldn’t give her a chance anyway, and she 
wouldn’t have talked if you had.” 

“Then you’d better suppose some more, Harry,” 
said the Chinaman, laughing heartily, “for you 
are muchee wrong this time. She fine young lady, 
velly pretty, too; and talkee to poor Fung all 
same as me talk to you and Jim. She ask me 
heap of things — and some of ’em ’bout you, too 
— ’bout Mary and Jim. She asked all ’bout Jim’s 
islands and Honolulu, and so velly many things 
me no remember ’em all.” 

“Indeed! and I suppose you told the young 
lady all you knew, all you had seen, and many 
things you have not, as you are fully capable of 
doing when once you get keyed up?” 

Fung Wung smiled. “Yes,” he admitted, 
rather modestly. “Me talk velly much, too, tell 
all about you; what a mighty fine feller you are, 
and say you like her song in church velly, velly 
much.” 

“Just as I expected/’ laughed Harry, “and I 


8o Satan of the Modem World. 


suppose you made an angel of me, all except the 
flying apparatus, and if you had stayed much 
longer I would have had that, too. But what did 
she say to that?” 

“She no say at all, but look mighty pleased 
though. I guess she like you, Harry.” 

“And Fung Wung, I guess you are getting too 
wise as well as too funny,” and Harry spoke a 
trifle more soberly than before. “But did they 
ask you to- come to-night?” 

“All three of ’em ; all say be sure and come.” 

“Then of course you are going?” 

“Of course. Me go, sure pop.” 

Then as Harry arose to go inside he laid his 
hand on the Mongolian’s head and said half hu- 
morously : 

“I am glad to find there are some people in 
this community who are civilized enough to treat 
even a Chinaman with respect.” 


It was eight o’clock the same evening when 
Harry and his “man Friday,” as “Deacon” Thomp- 
son spitefully called Fung, drove up to the lane, 
alighted and rang the bell at the door of the 
Randolph residence. The Judge himself answered 
the bell, meeting them at the door with a smiling 
face. He greeted them cordially, and after shak- 
ing hands with each, led them into the old-fash- 
ioned parlor, which was already well filled, not- 
withstanding the early hour — so well filled that 
there was but one vacant seat, that being a small 
divan in a far corner beside the piano. The 
Judge showed Fung to this seat, then, as Harry 


Satan of the Modern World. 81 


was acquainted with but few of those present, he 
introduced him to the company, after which he 
excused himself, saying: 

“I am very sorry, Mr. Brown, but I will have 
to leave you to amuse yourself as best you can 
for awhile. My wife and daughter are both busy 
just now, bat one of them will be in presently, 
so, in the meantime, the house is at your dis- 
posal.” 

As no one in the room seemed the least de- 
sirous of entertaining him, he looked around for a 
seat, and observing that there was room for one 
more on the divan, and surmising correctly that 
no one who might come in later would care to 
sit beside a Chinaman, he sat down there himself 
and began looking around the room. He scanned 
the faces of those about him, but found nothing 
there to interest him; then as no one seemed in- 
clined to pay any heed to him further than to gape 
at his companion, he began a systematic survey 
of the quaintly furnished room with its elaborate 
display of bric-a-brac neatly and tastefully ar- 
ranged about the walls. Casting about for some- 
thing of interest to break the dull monotony which 
pervaded the room, his eyes rested at length upon 
a large mahogany bookcase nearby. “There is 
something interesting at last,” he thought, but be- 
fore he had decided to go over and examine 
the Judge’s library, the conversation, which had 
lagged since he came in, was suddenly resumed, 
and to his surprise it was as interesting as it was 
unique and original. 

To one, who on a winter’s night, has sat around 
the stove on a cracker barrel, drygoods box or 


82 Satan of the Modem World. 


counter of the only store of a country village — 
or as near the appearance of a village as a black- 
smith shop, station house, schoolhouse and store 
can give — and listened to the gossip of the rural 
denizens as they came after chore-time to get the 
mail which they knew would not come for a week, 
and there sat smoking their corn-cob pipes until 
the room was filled with a dense cloud of smoke 
and spat upon the floor until there was not a dry 
spot as big as a copper penny, gossiping in their 
drawling Yankee tones until the English language 
was distorted into a senseless jargon; to one who 
has spent an hour amid such surroundings it is 
easy to understand why Harry Brown so readily 
gave up the pleasure of looking at some rare old 
volumes in the Judge’s library and became an 
eager and attentive listener to the exchange of 
ideas that was going on around the room. 

From the comments made he learned that Mrs. 
Brindal, Jr., had “Jest got a bran’ new cook 
stove.” Also he learned that “I’m offel glad I’m 
through with the old elevated oven stove that 
Gran’ma bought ’fore mother was married. It 
may o’ bin all right for Gran,” she explained, 
“but folks now-a-days might jest as well have the 
last thing out, fer the best’s none too good for 
them as has the money to pay fer ’em.” 

Young Mrs. Jones — Daisy Thompson that was 
— came next. With a great variety of detail, and 
manner somewhat resembling that of her father, 
the Deacon, she began telling about a new quilt she 
had just put on the frames, which “she’d bet 
would be certain sure to cause a sensation just 
as soon as ’twas done. She’d begged (so she said) 


Satan of the Modem World. 83 

a piece of ev’ry new dress that had been made or 
worn in the community for a year back, she’d got 
the silk linin’s from the hats of all the boys she 
knowed ’round about there to make the fancy 
blocks for the crazy cover, the black squares she’d 
cut from her grandmother’s weddin’ dress, and be- 
sides all this finery she’d sent to Montpelier by her 
sister, who had been there last winter, for a yard 
of pink silk at a bargain sale, which she’d cut 
up into great, long stripes ” 

“Now ain’t it jest tew bad,” interrupted old 
maid Van Curen, “that they don’t have none of 
them bargain sales here so’s we wouldn’t have to 
go fifty miles to get something cheap or go with- 
out.” 

“You know that pet lamb of ours,” continued 
Mrs. J ones, oblivious to the interruption ; but 
as no one seemed to enjoy that particular lamb’s 
acquaintance, she explained: “As how it was a 
twin that had got lost from the mother sheep 
one cold day in February, and when found and 
restored to its mother, that mother’s heart was as 
cold as the weather, for she refused to own it. 
So Will had brought it to the house, where she 
fed it with a spoon and made a nice, warm place 
for it in the woodshed; and thus Will had in- 
sisted on calling it Daisy, after her. As Daisy 
grew up,” she related, “she would never go with 
the flock which had disowned her, but always 
hung around the house and she had taken such 
good care of her that she was bigger’n any of the 
rest ! And this year when Daisy was sheared for 
the first time, she’d jest told Will she was goin’ 


84 Satan of the Modem World. 

the fleece over to the Falls to be carded, and it 
had just come back the day before. She was just 
that mighty anxious to see how it would look 
that Will had to coax her mighty hard to get her 
to leave and come to the social." 

Then came a desperate struggle to see who 
would get the floor next. Parliamentary rules 
were strictly out of order. Several started in at 
once, and there was a perfect babel of voices, each 
trying to be heard above all the others. 

Fung Wung sat in the corner and there was a 
broad grin on his Oriental face, and he could 
scarcely suppress the laughter that was continu- 
ally rising to his lips, while Harry was thinking 
that after all the Judge had left him in a good 
place to be entertained. 

Meanwhile the sitting-room, adjoining the par- 
lor, was rapidly fdling up, mostly with elderly 
people who came in late, “Jest to stay to supper/’ 
as they explained. From where he sat Harry 
could catch an occasional glimpse of the host as 
he moved about in the adjoining rooms, welcom- 
ing newcomers and responding kindly to the many 
words addressed to him. He could not help no- 
ticing what a splendid figure the “grand old man” 
presented with his proud bearing, urbane smile 
and manner of courtly grace. 

But here the conversation took a different turn, 
and, for the time being, he forgot his admiration 
for the Judge. 

“Say, Brother Thompson,” he heard some one 
say, “I hear as how that boy Ike of yours has 
graduated from school in Boston, and is back home 
again.” 


Satan of the Modern World. 85 

“Yes, sir,” answered the Deacon proudly, his 
face assuming an expression of vast importance; 
“but it ain’t no school, though; ’twas a college as 
he graduated from; a college, sir. And I tell you 
what, I’m mighty proud of that boy, I am, and 
I’ve got mighty good reasons fer bein’ proud of 
him, too. He’s a terrible smart feller, I want 
to tell you, and he knows a heap sight more than 
most men around here. But it cost a heap 0’ 
money to put him through, that’s sure.” 

“Has he got a place to preach yet?” asked old 
maid Van Curen, who had always had a hankering 
after Isaac. 

“No; of course not yet,” answered the Deacon 
with righteous indignation, “but I reckon it won’t 
be long afore he does, though, and when he does 
it won’t be around no one-horse town like this, 
either. Why, Ike won a fifty-dollar prize that 
was offered for the smartest speech on the last day 
0’ school — college, I mean — and they say it was 
just grand, and the way he spoke it couldn’t be 
beat, nohow. You can jest bet that boy’ll never 
fool away any of his time hangin’ ’round an old 
farm,” and he cast an insinuating glance in the 
direction of the piano. 

Just how much more might have been said to 
Ike’s credit will never be known, for at that mo- 
ment Virginia came into the room, greeting all 
with a bow and a smile, saying she was happy 
to meet them all and hoped they were enjoying 
themselves. Then seeing Harry in the corner she 
came over to where he and Fung were sitting, 
bowed kindly to Fung and extended a slender 


86 Satan of the Modem World. 


hand to Harry, who arose as she came to greet 
him. 

“I am very glad you came this evening,” she 
said, after they had exchanged greetings, “even 
though we did leave you alone with strangers 
for a whole hour. Papa told me some time ago 
that you were here and I came in as soon as I 
could be spared to bid you welcome. I am afraid 
you think it rude of papa to leave you here with 
no one to talk to. Mamma said some one ought 
to come in, if for no other reason than that of 
making an outward show of respect, and as she 
could not come, the duty, of course, devolved upon 
me.” 

“I hope the duty will not be an unpleasant one 
to perform,” he said, smiling, as he released the 
hand she had so cordially offered and he had so 
nearly forgotten to release. “But please do not 
apologize, for I assure you I have not been lonely 
at all. In fact I have been a very interested lis- 
tener to the conversation going on about me, and 
besides I have had exceptionally good company in 
my friend Mr. Wung. I believe you have had the 
pleasure of meeting him?” 

Virginia smiled graciously and extended her 
hand to Fung, while over in the far corner fat 
Mrs. Knight was heard to whisper: “Land sakes, 
jest see the Jedge’s darter shakin 7 hands with a 
real live heathen Chinaman ! 77 

Fung Wung arose and touched the extended 
hand with as much reverence as though it were 
an object from another world, then made a low 
bow and resumed his seat with the ease and grace 
of a courtier of the age of chivalry. 


Satan of the Modern World. 87 

“It is not difficult to understand why you never 
get lonesome in the society of Mr. Fung,” said 
she, “for we found him this afternoon to be 
a very interesting and cultured gentleman; and a 
very useful one, too,” and she bestowed on him 
a look of gratitude which filled him to overflow- 
ing with vanity and happiness, for never before 
had a “Melican gal” allowed him to touch her 
hand or call him an interesting gentleman. 

“I am afraid, too, that the social would have 
been a failure had it not been for the berries you 
so kindly donated, and papa and mamma feel 
very grateful to you for your thoughtfulness and 
requested' me to lose no time in thanking you for 
it. We have already tried to express our gratitude 
to your friend. Papa and mamma wanted me to 
ask you,” said the maiden, seating herself on the. 
piano stool • 

But here there was a sudden commotion in the 
room, and whatever it was the Judge and his wife 
wanted, it was for the time being forgotten. A 
tall, gaunt, spare-faced individual with a high 
standing collar, white tie, and wearing a Prince 
Albert coat opened the door and, like the “Raven,” 
came in unannounced. 

“Why, there’s Ike now!” yelled old maid Van 
Curen. “Ain’t he just too lovely for anything?” 

“There’s my Ike !” yelled the Deacon in a still 
higher key. “Ain’t he a fine feller, though?” 

“Why, Ike, how dew yew dew !” chimed in an- 
other; then, acting on a sudden impulse, they all 
sprang up and surrounded him, each trying to 
outdo the other in the effort to shake hands with 
him, sing his praises and load him down with con- 


88 Satan of the Modem World. 


gratulations and good wishes. It was, however, 
a case of “pearls being cast before swine,” or, as 
the object of the adoration appeared to think, 
swine before the pearl ; for the clerical cut indi- 
vidual no sooner saw Virginia sitting at the piano 
than he broke through the surrounding throng 
and, disdaining the hand which Miss Van Curen 
was so persistently holding up before him, was 
soon at her side with as winning a smile as his 
somewhat surly visage could assume. 

“Good evening, Virginia,” said young Thomp- 
son, holding out a large, bony hand, “I am so 
glad to meet you once more.” 

“Good evening, Mr. Thompson,” replied she, 
ignoring the hand as persistently as it was being 
offered, and with a proud ring to her melodious 
voice. “Allow me to congratulate you on your 
successful graduation from college. Permit me 
also to introduce to you a friend and neighbor of 
ours, Mr. Brown. Mr. Brown, this is Mr. Thomp- 
son.” 

“I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Thompson,” said 
Harry, arising and offering his hand: but evi- 
dently the pleasure was all his own, for Mr. 
Thompson’s head was too highly elevated to see 
the proffered hand, and his only acknowledgment 
of the introduction was the mere shadow of a stiff 
and dignified bow. 

“And this, Mr. Thompson,” continued the 
maiden, indicating Fung, “is also a friend of ours 
as well as Mr. Brown’s, Mr. Fung Wung.” 

Fung Wung was always full of ready wit. He 
took in the situation at a glance and resolved to 
give the gentleman no chance of snubbing him 


Satan of the Modem World 89 

as lie liad everyone else in the room; therefore, 
while the Rev. Thompson was giving him a very 
contemptuous survey he gazed calmly at him for 
a moment, then, as though suddenly discovering 
the importance of the individual before him, he 
rose quickly to his feet, made a sweeping bow al- 
most to the floor, and resumed his seat without 
the slightest trace of a smile on his Oriental 
countenance. 

The reverend man’s face flushed with rage. 
Harry, though used to Fung’s grimaces, could not 
suppress a smile, while from Virginia’s lips came 
a peal of merry laughter. Vengeance, for the 
moment, w T as hers, but when she turned to speak 
again her face was more scornful and stern than 
before. Virginia Randolph was generous and 
noble in every respect, yet she was, withal, a proud 
girl, and it made her resentful to see disrespect 
shown to those in humble circumstances. Her 
voice w r as cold and a trifle hard as she said: 

“I suppose you are glad your college days are 
over and you are ready at last to begin your 
life’s work?” 

“I assure you I am glad those long, weary days 
of study are over with. I have had anything but 
an easy time thus far in my career ; but then, that 
is all past and gone, and soon I hope to begin 
reaping the reward which always comes to the 
deserving.” 

“Then you have had a call?” 

“Ho, not yet. But that, however, don’t worry 
me any, for I would prefer a few weeks’ rest first. 
There’ll be no trouble at all in finding a place 
suitable to a man of my talent and ability. I pre- 


90 Satan of the Modem World. 

sume you have heard about the graduating exer- 
cises?” he continued, with an air of great im- 
portance. “I particularly distinguished myself 
and won the prize of fifty dollars in gold for the 
best oration. Of course I look upon the gold as 
mere dross, but the fame of being the greatest 
orator of my class was well worth the effort.” 
And thus he ran on, rating his virtues and ability 
in the same boastful- manner. 

Virginia listened half amused, half scornful, 
while Harry sat studying him with an amused ex- 
pression on his face. “So this is my ‘smart boy 
Ike/ ” he thought, as the boaster continued to sing 
his own praises. In general make-up there was 
much of the blatant and conceited manner so 
characteristic of the father. His eyes were small, 
continually shifting about, indicating that men- 
tally he was dishonest and not to be trusted; 
while the cast of his countenance showed him to 
be envious and selfish to a high degree. 

His face was far from being handsome, nor was 
it pleasant to look upon, especially when he came 
in contact with one whom he considered a social 
inferior. It was a face, too, that could readily 
take on a cringing expression whenever he had a 
point to gain or a favor to ask. His hair, which 
was thin and coarse, was worn long and parted 
in the middle, and brushed back so as to give the 
countenance a classic appearance, a style very pop- 
ular with the clergy, undoubtedly because it lends 
them the appearance of dignity not otherwise ap- 
parent. His whole appearance, in fact, was that 
of one who would stoop to anything, no matter 
how dishonorable it might be, in order to gain 


Satan of the Modem World. 91 

his selfish ends. His clerical coat might hide his 
shortcomings from some, but not from the keen 
eye of the young philosopher of Maple Lawn. 

There was another silence in the room caused 
by the appearance of the Judge in the doorway. 

“We want you all, you older people, to come and 
eat supper,” said he, “so that the youngsters can 
have the place to themselves.” Then turning 
towards the corner where he had left Harry sitting 
an hour before, his eyes encountered the “Dea- 
con’s” son, who, after shaking hands and return- 
ing his greeting, turned again to Virginia and said 
in a low tone: 

“Virginia, may I have the pleasure of escorting 
you to supper?” 

“I fear I shall be obliged to decline the honor, 
Mr. Thompson,” she replied, looking at him 
steadily, “for I must help mamma for awhile 
yet, and for the further reason that she has 
some particular friends whom she will entertain 
later on and has requested me to wait and sup 
with them. I trust you will excuse me.” 

“Oh, certainly,” was the response, accompained 
by a dark frown. “If you have other company 
I could not expect to be accepted,” and without 
further ado he strode away muttering rude im- 
precations beneath his breath. 

“Virginia,” said her mother, coming in at that 
moment, “I am afraid I shall have to have some 
help. I don’t like to disturb you, but really I 
don’t know what else to do.” 

But she was not long in doubt, for before Vir- 
ginia had time to answer, Harry had given Fung 
a gentle kick on the shin whereupon the Mongo- 


92 Satan of the Modern World. 

lian took the hint that his room was preferable 
(to him at least) to his company and accord- 
ingly arose and volunteered his services. 

“Me muchee glad to helpee you, you wantee 
me?” said he. 

“Yes,” put in Harry, encouragingly, “you will 
find him an excellent waiter if that is what you 
want. He has seen service in that capacity before 
and has not forgotten how to make himself useful 
around a house.” 

“Ho one could doubt that for a moment after 
having seen him pick over strawberries,” said 
Virginia, “but really, it seems a shame to impose 
on his good nature by allowing him to go,” and she 
smiled very graciously on Fung. 

“Ho, no imposee at all,” said Fung, “muchee 
rather work than sit here doing nothing,” and he 
rose to go. 

“Well, it makes no difference to me which one 
comes,” replied Mrs. Randolph; “it is help I am 
looking for, and if Mr. Fung had just as soon 
come I’ll excuse you, Virginia,” and she went 
back to the dining-room followed by the Celestial 
who was beginning to feel a great deal of affec- 
tion for the sweet-faced old lady to whom he had 
so cheerfully volunteered his services. 

And thus it came to pass that Harry Brown 
and Viriginia Randolph were left alone in the old- 
fashioned parlor — alone except for soft, dreamy 
moonlight that came streaming through the tall, 
open windows, and the gently sighing breeze which 
brought with it the rustling of leaves and the 
perfume of flowers, but they cared not for such 
intrusion. 


Satan of the Modem World. 93 

“Those people seem very much attached to you,” 
said Virginia, breaking the silence which had 
fallen in the room as the forms of her mother 
and Fung Wung faded from sight. 

“Yes,” he answered, smiling, “still, no more 
than I am attached to them. They have been 
with me now nearly five years and have inspired 
in me almost the same affection I would feel for 
people of my own flesh and blood had I any, and, 
no doubt I would miss them as much were they 
to be taken away. It may seem strange to you 
that such an attachment should grow up between 
us, but they all came to me, poor and friendless, 
and are so honest in their simple, yet earnest ef- 
fort to do right, that it seems to me that no one 
with a heart could do otherwise than I have done. 
To be sure nature did not endow them with any 
great gifts, either mental or physical; yet if en- 
deavoring to make the most of their talents add 
in any way to their true worth, they stand, in my 
estimation, far above the average of humanity. 
Do you dislike people of an alien race ?” 

She looked him full in the face as she answered, 
and the light shining from the depths of her dark, 
soulful eyes told of her great love for humanity. 

“To me,” she said softly, “there is but one race, 
the human race, and there are no barriers of creed 
or color. A noble soul who seeks the truth for 
truth’s sake alone and declares it before the world 
regardless of the consequences, whether he be the 
dark-skinned native of India, Arabia or China, 
or the pale-faced Anglo Saxon, he equally com- 
mands my admiration and respect. To me a 
philosopher in rags is a hero, while noble birth 


94 Satan of the Modern World. 

and splendid raiment are not and never can be 
an apology for sin/’ 

“These are noble sentiments and find a ready 
echo in my heart,” said Harry, warmly. ‘'Still, 
I am sorry to observe that there are a great 
many people in the world who never tire 
of preaching the brotherhood of man and 
at the same time hold a Chinese in the ut- 
most contempt. But that is nothing,” he added, 
jestingly, “for I, too, seem to share the fate of 
the meek and lowly.” 

She laughed at the recollection of the manner 
in which Fung had received the introduction. 

“That was amusing,” said she, “but I had not 
supposed the Chinese were in the habit of look- 
ing on the bright side of life, as your friend ap- 
pears to be.” 

“As a rule, I believe,” he answered, coloring 
slightly, “they are not; but this one is an excep- 
tion, or rather, to make a confession of my sins, 
since he has been with me he has learned a great 
many mischievous tricks and has become well 
trained in dealing with human nature.” 

“And to make a more explicit confession he 
did just exactly what you would liked to have 
done, only in your case it would have been un- 
dignified. Is it not so ?” 

“Yes,” he admitted, “I plead guilty to the 
charge and thus exonerate Fung from all blame 
by saying that he learned it all from me. Am 
I wrong in my philosophy of life? Perhaps so; 
still I cannot help being amused at the petty vani- 
ties of the world, and I believe ? tis better so than 


Satan of the Modern World. 95 

otherwise, for in this life an over-sensitive sonl 
is apt to receive many bitter stings. 

“I hope you will pardon me for allowing my 
curiosity to overcome my better judgment, but I 
have heard it mentioned that you have a very 
choice collection of paintings, nearly all of them 
your own productions?” 

“Are you fond of art ?” she asked with a pleased 
glance into his honest eyes. 

“Yes, passionately fond of it,” he answered; 
“still I am not an artist. I have the soul and 
longing of one, but my passion for art will never 
be satisfied, for even the longest life is far too 
short for the accomplishment of all things, and 
mine is too much absorbed with other and, to me, 
more important pursuits. Still, there is nothing 
in the universe that stirs my emotions so deeply, 
nothing that appeals to my better nature so 
strongly as the grand scenes of nature reproduced 
on canvas.” 

The maiden was looking thoughtfully through 
the window upon the moonlit lawn and for several 
moments there was absolute silence in the room. 

“I have quite a collection,” she answered dubi- 
ously, after she had settled some seemingly doubt- 
ful question in her mind, “and all of my own work, 
too ; but I do not claim any especial merit for them. 
I am, as yet, only a young and comparatively 
unknown artist, an amateur who realizes perfectly 
well the shortcomings of her work. There have 
been but few of them exhibited before competent 
critics, though some day,” — and her eyes lit up 
and blazed with the fires of ambition, — “I hope to 
produce something which even the great masters 


96 Satan of the Modem World. 

would not be ashamed to call their own. I take 
pleasure in exhibiting them to the people here, as 
they seem to appreciate the good points in them 
without being able to discern their shortcomings. 
Young people, you know, are often sensitive to just 
criticism, and that is why I hesitated about showing 
them to you. But I will, however, though I warn 
you to be moderate in your censure or I shall not 
fail to make reprisals when we come to visit your 
enchanted castle with its walls filled with wonders. 
Therefore, Mr. Brown, while the others are eating 
your strawberries, if you will come with me I shall 
take pleasure in showing you through my modest 
gallery.” 

With that she led him out through the dining- 
room, where the older people of the community 
were still sitting around the long table, still tell- 
ing their wonderful adventures and experiences 
that were not at all wonderful, where young 
Thompson sat and looked at them as they passed 
through with a dark scowl on his surly face, where 
Fung Wung flitted about and grinned as often as 
his eyes fell upon the scowling face, on into the 
large room in the rear where the young people were 
still playing their youthful games and making the 
old house ring with their merry laughter. 

“And this, Mr. Brown,” said she, with a merry 
laugh and a mocking bow, “is the Art Gallery of 
the Randolph homestead, to which I now bid you 
welcome. Here at the south side, covering almost 
the entire wall, are my latest efforts, which I hope 
are not so poorly executed that you cannot recog- 
nize them — my father and mother.” 

He had followed her into the room half doubt- 


Satan of the Modern World. 97 

ful, half hopeful, but as his glance fell upon the 
portraits he was struck with astonishment. Every 
outline, every detail was without a flaw; they 
lacked only the breath of life to make the realism 
complete. For several moments he gazed in silent 
admiration at the faces before him, then turned to 
the fair young artist beside him, who was survey- 
ing them with no less admiring eyes than his had 
been. 

“Remember now, Mr. Brown,” she said jestingly, 
“you are to restrain your criticism concerning these 
works.” 

As for Harry, he began to realize that he stood 
in the presence of a person, not only of uncom- 
mon ability, but of genius of the very highest 
order. “I only wish my tongue were capable 
of framing words with which to appropriately 
express my admiration for such work as that,” he 
answered. 

“You flatter me, Mr. Brown,” she said modestly. 

“Flatter you !” he exclaimed ; “I could not even 
though I were to attempt it, for you are as far 
above flattery as the real merit of these works is 
above any words of praise I can frame.” 

He turned again to the portraits and seemed lost 
in a world of contemplation. 

“Come, Mr. Brown,” said Virginia, laying a soft 
hand on his arm, “you must not remain here all 
night admiring papa and mamma, for I have still 
other works which you should see.” 

Reluctantly he turned away and followed the de- 
lighted maiden, who evidently was well pleased to 
find that he, who had visited all the great galleries 
of the world, had only favorable criticisms to offer 


98 Satan of the Modern World. 

upon her work. The hour that followed was to 
Harry the most delightful he had ever known. He 
spoke scarcely a word, made no comments what- 
ever, but as the sweet, melodious voice rose and 
fell so softly and silvery, describing the scenes 
from which some of the choicest gems were repro- 
duced and the inspiration which had called forth 
others, he listened, admired and adored. He had 
seen before that the maiden beside him was a 
dreamer, a philosopher, a genius ; he saw now that 
she was a most cultured conversationalist and a 
most charming entertainer. Which he admired 
most — the artist or her work — he could scarcely 
tell. 

“Here is the last,” said she, as they com- 
pleted the circuit of the room, “and no doubt you 
will recognize the scene; yonder noble mountain 
which guards and watches over the destinies of the 
humble village of Verne,” and she pointed east- 
ward to where Mt. Fleecer towered in the moon- 
light, white and resplendent above the green, fer- 
tile valley below. Yes, there upon the wall he 
saw, perfect as on the day old Vulcan had heaved 
it from the hot, molten lava of the earth’s center, a 
reproduction of that noble mountain complete in 
every detail. 

What could he say to the fair young genius, so 
noble in form, so beautiful in feature, and with 
soul so deep that even she seemed unconscious of 
the limits of her own powers? And such a voice 
was hers! So rich in tone, so full of shades of 
tenderness and passion. 

“Come, Mr. Brown,” she said, with a happy 
laugh, “you must not look so sad. Surely they are 


Satan of the Modern World. 99 

not so bad as to cause a depression of spirits ! If 
they are perhaps I can bear to listen to some hos- 
tile criticism of them/’ 

“I have none to offer/’ he answered in all seri- 
ousness. “My soul is too deeply stirred to attempt 
to even offer words of praise, and, though I never 
stoop to idle flattery, I still hope I am capable of 
recognizing and appreciating genius wherever I 
find it. In my heart and soul there is an apprecia- 
tion which no words or tongue can express, and if 
the day ever comes in which you realize your dream 
and accomplish that which surpasses these works 
in beauty and perfection I shall consider it a de- 
light to behold it.” 

There was a silence for a brief period, which was 
broken only by the joyous laughter of the young- 
sters who were now in the dining-room. The fires 
of genius which had burned so brilliantly in the 
maiden’s soul, and illuminated her face with a 
radiant, glorious beauty, slumbered, then into her 
eyes came again the oft-seen, dreamy faraway 
look. 

“I would almost rather you had said they were 
poor,” she said at length, “yet I thank you for your 
opinion, well knowing it to be an honest one. I, too, 
have an opinion concerning them, but it is an opin- 
ion that is never spoken. All I have to say in that 
regard is that I did my best.” 

Harry laughed at her modesty, while her lips 
parted in a faint smile. 

“I have been tempted to ask you a question,” he 
said, “but until this very moment had fully deter- 
mined to resist the temptation. Some months ago 
I read in a Boston paper of a notable work of art 


Lcf c. 


ioo Satan of the Modem World. 


on exhibition in that city — the work of a Miss Kan- 
dolph — whom I now believe to have been you. The 
ablest critics were enthusiastic in their praises of 
it; and, pardon me for asking, which of these 
was it ?” 

In evident agitation and without making a reply 
the maiden turned to the window and gazed 
silently out upon the lawn beautiful in its maze of 
silvery moonbeams. Suddenly the agitation 
seemed to pass away, her face became calm and 
determined, when she turned to him again there 
was a light shining from her eyes he had never 
seen there before, and when she spoke her voice 
sounded low and sweet like the distant murmur- 
ing of the tide, beating gently against the rocks. 

“No, Mr. Brown, it is not in the collection you 
have seen, nor is it likely to be there for years 
to come. The reason for that will be apparent to 
you when you see it, but that is not the reason it 
was not here before. It was laid aside for the 
reason that the inspiration of the scene came from 
a dark and bloody past and would add nothing to 
the happiness of my parents in their closing years 
of life. It was a scene that haunted my dreams 
and cast a darkened shadow on my life from the 
day on which I first read of that monstrous crime. 
I tried to shut it from my life, tried to drive it 
from my thoughts; but I could not succeed and 
nfght and day there was no rest, no peace for my 
weary soul. Waking it was before me and sleep- 
ing in my dreams until I had reproduced the scene 
from my brain and dedicated it to philosophy as a 
sacred remembrance of the heroic death of the mar- 
tyr, Bruno. I will show you the work, Mr. Brown, 


Satan of the Modem World, ioi 


then, as I hold you worthy of my highest esteem, I 
need not remind you that it is to you alone, and 
that you are to forget that you ever saw it. Yours 
shall be the last eyes to behold it. It is needless 
for me to explain why, for you will discern the 
reason. It is here in my study ; come !” 

She led the way. Her face was as calm as chis- 
eled stone. She unlocked the desk, opened the 
drawer and took therefrom the same canvas she 
had laid there but a few hours before, then, attach- 
ing one end to a hook on the wall, unrolled it and 
fastened the lower end. 

“There, Mr. Brown/’ said she, stepping back, “is 
the painting which created such a sensation in Bos- 
ton four months ago and for which I was offered 
the modest sum of fifty thousand dollars.” 

Upon the canvas he saw a form of noble stature ; 
a white, hunted face, an intellectual and classic 
countenance that spoke of mighty genius and lofty 
ideals, while surrounding was surging smoke and 
flame and a mad mob of cowled monks and richly- 
robed priests upon whose evil and licentious fea- 
tures were written all the hatred and bigotry that 
characterized the Church of Rome in that period 
of history. It was a face that filled him with 
mixed terror and delight, for it told him a story of 
love and genius, a story of unselfish ambition in 
the fair young maid beside him; it told him, too, 
that he was the hero of her dreams, for the face 
upon the canvas bore a more than striking resem- 
blance to the face of Harry Brown. 


102 Satan of the Modern World. 


CHAPTER VII. 

SOWING THE SEED. 

It was the Saturday following the festival at the 
Randolph homestead, and a colder and more 
dreary Saturday sunny June had never before 
brought face to face with the State of Vermont 
and the inhabitants therein. So, at least, it seemed 
to Harry Brown as he stood at the window of his 
library and gazed absently out upon the scene be- 
fore him which thirty-six hours of continuous 
downpour of rain had changed from one of 
dazzling beauty to one of desolation. 

It was a little past midnight when he had left 
the Judge’s house that evening, and even as he 
lingered on the moonlit porch bidding adieu to 
Virginia and her parents, a dark cloud, heavy, 
threatening and storm-laden had appeared above 
the western horizon, soon to be followed by another 
more threatening than the first, while the deep- 
toned thunder pealed forth its warning notes with 
unerring frequency. Pleasant as it would have 
been to remain there in the beautiful summer night 
with the maiden he adored, he realized that a storm 
was fast approaching and that if he wished to reach 
Maple Lawn without being caught in its fury he 
had but little time to lose. 


Satan of the Modern World. 103 

If time and tide were to wait for man it is 
difficult to predict just what kind of a world this 
would be. But if storms were to stay their fury at 
love’s request this would be a beautiful world in- 
deed. But they do not, and Harry Brown, know- 
ing this, bade his newly made friends a hasty good- 
night and sprang into the carriage in which Fung 
Wung had been waiting so long and patiently, and 
drove rapidly away. He had scarcely reached 
home when the storm burst in all its fury. All 
through the remaining hours of the night the rain 
fell with relentless and unceasing fury, the thunder 
rolled in direful tones along the darkened sky, 
while the lightning lit up the whole southern 
heavens with continuous flashes of light. The 
wind blew a terrific gale, it howled in mournful 
cadence around the chimneys and minarets and rat- 
tled the windows and great oaken shutters as 
though determined to gain an entrance there. 
With each succeeding hour the rain descended in 
denser volumes, though when morning came, with 
the exception of a steady downpour of rain and an 
occasional murmur of distant thunder the elements 
had ceased their wild commotion. The wind had 
subsided, the lightning flashed no more along the 
darkened sky; still, all was dark and dismal and 
dreary. 

The day following his visit to the Randolph 
home was a very happy one to Harry despite the 
gloomy aspect of the outside world. In the morn- 
ing he had attempted to write, but was too happy 
to accomplish much in that direction. Thoughts 
of subjects foreign to that of which he was en- 
deavoring to write — and far more interesting — 


104 Satan of the Modern World. 

were continually creeping into his mind, and when 
he had written a page and paused to look it over 
he found that there was but little, if any, connec- 
tion to the sentences there written, and still less 
common sense. He laughed aloud at his absent- 
mindedness, for unconsciously the word “Virginia” 
had several times come to his pen. Laying aside 
his work he had then enticed Fung into a game of 
checkers, in which they were so evenly matched that 
the game lasted well into the night, the victory 
falling at last to the Mongolian. Thus passed Fri- 
day, but when Saturday came with the same dark 
clouds overhanging the earth and the rain still 
falling in a cold and aggravating drizzle, Harry’s 
spirits began to droop, and for the first time since 
he came back to his old home a gloomy expression 
settled on his handsome face. He ate his morning 
meal in silence, except to decline to play another 
game of checkers with Fung, recommending Jim 
as a good match for him; but this proposition 
Fung scornfully refused to consider for a moment. 

In moody silence he left the table and going to 
the library stood looking out through the window, 
then drawing a large easy-chair before the blaze 
of the library fire he seated himself in a lounging 
position, while his face took on a very disconsolate 
expression. 

For a long time he sat there with the dancing 
flames from the open grate throwing their fitful 
shadows on the darkened walls around him, lost 
in a deep reminiscence. Silently, thoughtfully, 
and with a distant look in his eyes which seemed 
to go through and beyond the burning fagots he 
continued to gaze steadily before him, while his 


Satan of the Modern World. 105 

mind, like the ever-changing shadows on the wall, 
roamed from the present to the future, from the 
future to the past, and then to the present again. 
His reveries brought him no solace, no relief, from 
the melancholy train of thought in which his mind 
was plunged. 

He was happy, yet his happiness was mixed with 
restless melancholy. He was happy because of the 
great love which had so suddenly been kindled in 
his heart for one of the noblest and most beautiful 
maidens of earth, happy because that love was not 
lavishly thrown away on some unworthy creature; 
but instead was returned by one as deep and pure 
and lasting as his own. He was restless and melan- 
choly because his cheerful, happy soul revolted at 
being shut up in the house when he longed to be 
outside reveling amid the beauties of nature. 

Outside the rain again came down in torrents, 
the wind rose and sighed mournfully through the 
branches of the trees, but the lonely figure before 
the fire seemed to heed not the change, for his 
thoughts were far away. Before his mind arose a 
vision of the scene which had taken place in Vir- 
ginia’s studio, one that shook his soul to the very 
foundations and for the time being nearly drove 
him mad with joy, a scene that would live fresh 
in his memory even though he were to live through- 
out the countless ages of eternity. Again he saw 
the graceful figure of the maiden as she unrolled 
the canvas on the wall before him, then stepped 
back with a calm and determined look on her ex- 
quisitely chiseled face. As though in a dream he 
saw himself as he sank in a chair white and horror- 
stricken. He saw the excitement gradually die 


io6 Satan of the Modern World. 


awa}q then he arose as calm and serene as she and 
stood before the canvas while the look of horror 
which the cruelty of the scene had inspired gave 
way to one of admiration as he noted the skill 
with which the artist had worked out even the 
smallest details of that sublime work of art. Then 
when his eyes had rested on that white face — so 
gentle, so noble and so intellectual — on which 
agony and suffering were so plainly depicted, the 
expression had changed to one of infinite pity. 
Again as he saw the fiendish, mocking faces of the 
persecutors as they gloated over their helpless vic- 
tim his countenance became cold and hard and his 
eyes blazed with righteous anger. Again he seemed 
to hear the words of bitterness that were wrung 
from his lips : 

“Oh, cursed children of hate, why were you 
created and allowed to impose upon the world 
that relic of barbarism, that ‘Mother of Iniquities/ 
that ‘Triumphant Beast’ to blight the fair and 
beautiful earth with its foul presence? Oh, ‘Vam- 
pire’ from a sorrowful past, what crimes 
hast thou committed in the name of re- 
ligion ? In the name of a loving and merci- 
ful Christ? Alas, alas! How many of the 
bravest and best have perished thus that thou 
mightst continue to suck the lifeblood from 
the heart of Philosophy ? And science, thou fairest 
and first born of nature, thou Wandering Jew of 
the brain, thou who hast made thy home in the 
lands and under the most adverse circumstances, 
what mournful tales could thy disciples tell of 
sacrifices and suffering as they tread the pathway 
of progress and virtue?” 


Satan of the Modem World. 107 

From the sublime and thrilling scene upon the 
canvas he turned to the stately maiden beside 
him, who had watched the changing emotions and 
expressions of his countenance. Calmly and se- 
renely, as though gazing upon the silent stars, their 
eyes met in a stead}^ earnest gaze. Then at last 
the barriers had been broken down and there came 
into the eyes of each something that neither could 
misunderstand, — something that told of a pure 
and holy love — a love they tried not and cared not 
to conceal and of which neither had cause to be 
ashamed. So lately met were they, yet within a 
few short hours they had ceased to be strangers 
and knew and understood each other better than 
either had been understood by mortal soul before. 
For a moment soul gazed into soul as through an 
open door and read the story fate had written 
therein — a story that thrilled the heart of each 
with a new, and strange, and happy sensation they 
had never known before. 

It was the sweet old story of love, a story, which 
though old, is ever new, and ever will be until 
some great convulsion of nature sweeps humanity 
forever from the earth, and men and women, love 
and hate, and sorrow and happiness are no more, — 
the sweetest story ever told. That moment he saw 
and understood all, and what hitherto had been a 
mystery he had read by the light that was shining 
from the depths of her great, deep soul. He under- 
stood the cause of her strange agitation when their 
eyes first met in church, why she trod the pathway 
of life alone when all the allurements of wealth 
and fashion had been laid at her feet, and her de- 
cided aversion to the society of the young theo- 


io8 Satan of the Modem World. 


logical graduate. She, too, this fair young maiden, 
was a dreamer, a philosopher living in the realm 
of thought, far from that in which the practical 
world lives and moves and has its being; and, as 
he saw the fond, loving glance which her eyes 
flashed back to his, he saw the true nobility and 
grandeur and beauty of her soul. She, too, had 
dreamed of ideal manhool even as he had dreamed 
of perfect womanhood, of one who was far above 
the world of selfishness, hypocrisy and greed in 
which she lived. Touched as she had been by the 
sad fate of Bruno who had offered up a spotless 
life amid the fagots’ flame in the vain attempt to 
reconstruct the church of his day — a church, too, 
from which even the cardinal principles of virtue 
had been cast out and trampled beneath the feet 
of a licentious priesthood — upon a firm and lasting 
foundation, she had portrayed the sad scene upon 
canvas as her fancy had pictured it to be, and 
moulded the features of the martyr in conformity 
with the ideals of her dream of true heroism and 
manhood. In him — and his heart throbbed wildly 
at the thought — she had found the personifica- 
tion of her ideal, the hero of her dreams. 

All this had passed through his mind in a flood 
of contending emotions so great as to almost over- 
whelm him. His lips had parted and he was about 
to pour forth the burning words that were rush- 
ing through his brain, to tell her of the great and 
passionate love that had burned so long in his 
heart for his ideal of perfect womanhood, how a 
glimpse of the beautiful soul shining through her 
soft, dark eyes, lighting them with a glow of im- 
mortal genius, had awakened that love into being 


Satan of the Modern World. 109 

for her; but before he could give them utterance 
his manhood came to his rescue. After all, would 
it be right? Would it be justice to her, the woman 
whose honor was dearer to him even than his own 
happiness? What if she had overestimated his 
worth? What if he should not prove to be her 
ideal, or his daily life come up to the standard 
by which she judged perfect manhood? What 
if on becoming better acquainted their tastes should 
prove dissimilar? Would it be right then, to bind 
her by a vow which in days to come might cause 
her unhappiness and pain? No, no, he would cast 
no shadow across the pathway of her fair young 
life. He would wait until she had sufficient time 
in which to study him, time to know and under- 
stand him better, then if she did not cast him al- 
together out of her life he would offer her a true 
and loving heart and a name untarnished. 

At that moment the white-haired mother had 
come into the studio and informed them that the 
young boys and girls were in the parlor calling 
for Virginia to come and sing for them before they 
took their departure. 

Harry followed them into the parlor and chatted 
with the gentle mother while Virginia sang. Mrs. 
Randolph had admired him before, what could she 
think of him now as he sat there for nearly an 
hour telling her of the many pretty places he had 
visited and many interesting reminiscences of his 
life? He gave her an extended description of the 
Hawaiian Islands, the Philippines, and others 
which had recently been annexed, and in which she 
was interested. 

At length the young people went away in a 


no Satan of the Modem World. 


merry mood, all except young Thompson, who 
stalked sullenly off into the night with a parting 
scowl for Harry and a curt “good-night” for the 
rest. The Judge had then escorted Virginia to 
the dining-room, followed by Mrs. Randolph and 
Harry, the Parson and his wife, while Fung Wung 
brought up the rear, making thus a happy party 
which sat long around the table and a merry time 
they had. The stern old jurist became young again 
— as far, at least, as actions and manner could 
make him so — and proved that he, too, was a man 
of the world, and, by his charming conversation, 
a man of learning and culture as well. It was 
with a feeling of pleasure that he now remembered 
that the brightest eyes of all that merry group 
were Virginia’s, that her face was radiant with 
happiness and that as a conversationalist she, and 
she alone, surpassed her aged father. At length 
the party came to an end with a characteristic 
Chinese song by Fung Wung which Harry had in- 
sisted on his singing, after which he had driven 
away with an invitation, the sincerity of which 
he could not doubt, to call again at an early date. 

His reverie was here interrupted by an unusu- 
ally loud crash of thunder and he was brought 
back to the world of reality to find that the rain 
was still coming down, outside, in torrents. Just 
why the thunder should disturb him to call that 
fact to his attention, no one can tell, nor, appar- 
ently, was there anything to be gained, for, with 
no companion other than his thoughts and the 
dancing shadows on the wall, he turned his eyes 
again to the fire and fell into another reverie. 

Three years ago he had come back to the village, 


Satan of the Modern World, hi 


tired of the great world, its multitudinous con- 
ditions, its environments and ever-changing scenes 
of life, with no thought or ambition in life other 
than to build a fairy bower, surround it with gar- 
dens of flowers, trailing vines and all the beauty 
and fragrance of nature that an artistic mind 
could devise. He had longed for a home far from 
the lust for fame and power which predominated 
the city’s thoroughfare and overshadows the lives 
of all who dwell therein, far from the temptations 
and disappointments of the world where he could 
spend the long years of life which remained to him 
in peace, and happiness, and comfort. But, ah! 
What a change a few short days had wrought in 
his dreams, a change that had interrupted the 
serenity of his life, a change that might yet change 
the whole course of his life. Fame had often 
held out to him a beckoning hand, had smiled on 
him with its brightest and most alluring smiles; 
yet, heretofore, the siren had smiled in vain. But 
when genius smiled on him through the eyes of a 
beauteous woman, the smile became infectious and 
the spark which hitherto had slumbered in his fer- 
tile brain, was fanned into a glowing coal. Am- 
bition beckoned anew and he determined to follow 
its delusive path let it lead where’er it might. What 
now was to him the fairest flower in all the world, 
and the one he longed to possess, was not to be 
found at Maple Lawn among his fairy flowers, but 
was the incarnation of philosophy, the living, 
breathing personification of beauty, Virginia Ban- 
dolph. 

Now the whole dream of his life was changed. 
All that he loved before he loved still and in the 


1 12 Satan of the Modern World. 


same manner, but like Eve, he was no longer satis- 
fied with what the garden contained. Some wise 
Serpent of desire had whispered to him of other 
joys. The home on which he had lavished so 
much energy and wealth was as dear to him as on 
the day he had pronounced it “well done,” but 
there had come into his life something to which 
he had given no thought before. He had met and 
learned to love a woman, who, in the purity of 
her soul and the modest consciousness of her gifts, 
stood as far above the world of hypocrisy and 
shams as the clouds floating over the distant moun- 
tain tops. 

Was he, could he be worthy of her? was the ques- 
tion uppermost in his thoughts as he sat silently 
before the fire. He well knew that few men would 
stop to consider that phase of the question as long 
as they gained their heart’s desire, whether that 
desire was actuated by unselfish love or morbid 
passion and base motives. With him, however, it 
was different, for far rather would he tread the 
pathway of life loveless, alone and unhonored, than 
risk casting the slightest shadow on her fair young 
life. Yes, he not only believed he could, but would 
make himself worthy of that pure creature who had 
sowed the seeds of love and ambition in his heart, 
and he fully determined to do so. 

Highly gifted by nature and highly favored by 
fortune he saw before him an opportunity of doing 
good such as fell to the lot of few men. There 
was a sphere of usefulness on which he could enter, 
and this he resolved to do at the earliest possible 
moment. From it there were no financial rewards 
to be obtained^ still it involved the welfare of the 


Satan of the Modern World. 113 

community and if successfully carried out would 
accomplish a vast amount of good. i 

The plan in which he was so deeply interested 
was for the establishment of a free reading-room 
and library in the village, similarly founded and 
conducted as the great libraries of the cities. 
Here in the midst of a fertile farming region he 
saw what, at the time of the Revolution had been 
a thriving town of nearly a thousand inhabitants, 
now merely a sleepy village of less than half that 
number. Down the river seven miles was a busy 
young city of four thousand people, and Ford 
Falls was scarcely a quarter of a century old. 
What had wrought this wonderful change no one 
in the village seemed able to determine. But 
Harry Brown, who had pondered over the rise and 
ruin of mighty empires, readily discerned the cause 
and he determined to put forth an effort to remove 
it. He knew that the unattractive aspect of the 
village only added to the natural discontent, to 
that tendency so strong in the young people to wan- 
der away to the distant city — drawn there by its 
glamor and the hope of bettering their condition — 
where they could find amusement and recreation 
such as farm and village life did not afford. He 
knew, too, that in the breasts of some were ambi- 
tious longings for fame, fortune and learning, all 
of which they fancied the city held for them, and 
for which they were willing to sacrifice their peace- 
ful and happy homes. He saw not only that, but 
the eagerness with which they grasped at every 
form of amusement that came in their way, their 
longing for a higher education than the village and 
country schools afforded, the seeming reluctance 


1 14 Satan of the Modern World. 

with which they attended church and the little in- 
terest they manifested in its affairs. He noted a 
growing uneasiness on the part of the young, and 
knew that when attendance at church became a 
task it was a true indication of a departure from 
the faith in the near future. 

For those who were fortunately situated as was 
Virginia Randolph, and knew the ways of the 
world as did she, he gave no thought, for like the 
great Christ of Galilee, he cared not to help the 
strong but to save the weak. It was to those who 
knew nothing of the great world that lay beyond 
the humble village, nothing of its delusions, its 
temptations, its many pitfalls and gilded snares 
that his heart went out in sympathy. Long ago he 
had learned that one immutable law governed the 
lives and deeds of men, mental, physical and 
moral; and that the way of the transgressor was 
hard. He had learned that the consequences of 
transgression are as hard to the skeptic as to him 
who follows blindly in the beaten path of a creed, 
that the harvest gathered from the seeds of sin is 
the same to all whether it be the philosopher, the 
bigot, or the one who never thinks, until the elev- 
enth hour, of the probability of life in the great 
silence beyond the grave. Well as he understood 
that, however, he knew that a great majority of 
the young people of the rural districts were in 
ignorance of the fact, and it was to such as those 
he determined to devote his life and energy that 
they might be saved from the ruin of many who 
had gone before. 

Thus he believed that if a library and reading- 
room could be established in the village it would 


Satan of the Modem World. 115 

mark the beginning of a desirable end, that it 
would prove both attractive and instructive, it 
would place before them good and useful literature 
instead of the trashy novel and story papers so 
commonly found in rural homes, which more than 
any other influence lured them away to their ruin. 
Could this be accomplished perhaps after all the 
sleepy old village might be transformed in time 
to a place of amusement as well as of learning and 
culture, and the migrations • of the brightest and 
best of the country’s youth to the city would cease. 
So long as that glittering siren continued to suck 
the life blood from the heart of the country, just 
so long would life in the country be dull and com- 
monplace. To save the youth and elevate the con- 
ditions prevalent in the rural districts there must 
be counter attractions and the same advantages the 
city offered, and to bring about this desirable con- 
dition of affairs he would portion out as his life’s 
work. A plan soon matured in his fertile brain 
which he resolved to put into execution at the earli- 
est possible opportunity; aye, he would begin that 
very day if possible, and hard though the task 
might prove to be, he would never cease his efforts 
until it had been successfully accomplished. 

He had little dreamed of the length of time he 
had been sitting there until Mary came to tell him 
that it was five o’clock and that dinner was waiting 
for him. He was in much better spirits than when 
he had seated himself several hours before, though 
as he glanced out through the window he noticed 
that the weather had not improved to any percept- 
ible degree. He came out upon the porch and sur- 
veyed the dreary landscape scene before him, which 


ii6 Satan of the Modern World. 


was not a very inviting one for J une. The meadow 
across the way was half covered with water, the 
clover was lying flat, and even the mountains in 
the distance were shrouded in darkness and gloom. 
But at that moment the clouds before him burst 
asunder and his heart beat high with hope, for 
through the rift, far away in the distance and high 
above the mists and fog which enshrouded the val- 
ley and lower foothills in impenetrable darkness, 
he saw the snow-crowned summit of Mt. Fleecer, 
white and glistening in the rays of the far western 
sun, looking like a gigantic bank of snow held by 
invisible hands high up in the dome of heaven. It 
was a scene of incomparable beauty and grandeur, 
and his eyes remained fixed upon it with soul en- 
raptured. It seemed to him a “bow promise” in the 
cloudless sky of his life, and with this happy 
thought echoing through his heart he turned from 
the water-soaked landscape before him and went in 
to the dinner that was waiting for him. During 
the hour he was seated at the table his spirits and 
the weather seemed to improve apace, for when he 
came out at the end of that time there were but a 
few hazy, drifting clouds visible in the east, while 
the whole western sky was lit up in a blaze of gol- 
den glory. With a smile upon his lips and whist- 
ling a merry tune, lie dressed himself for a call, 
and just as the sun sank from sight behind the 
distant woodland hills, he drove up the lane be- 
side Judge Randolph’s house feeling certain that 
his mission was going to be a fruitful one. 

As he opened the gate and stepped in upon the 
lawn he came face to face with the radiant Vir- 
ginia, who was out among the flowers straightening 


Satan of the Modem World. 1 17 

up the poor, bruised and rain-beaten stems among 
which the storm had wrought such sad havoc. She 
looked up with a cry of glad surprise as he came 
and stood before her and instinctively offered him 
her hand, but withdrew it again quite as suddenly 
with a merry peal of laughter, for, to say the least, 
it was for the time being a very dirty one. Harry 
laughed too, thinking at the same time that the 
scene on which he had so suddenly intruded was a 
very pretty one. He had thought Virginia beauti- 
ful before, but never so beautiful as now, never so 
modest in her dark, queenly beauty, so graceful or 
so fair, so simply yet so richly dressed in a loose, 
flowing gown which made her slender and well- 
developed form appear more graceful than when 
robed according to the dictates of fashion. Her 
head was bare, her dark clustering hair was loosely 
fastened and fell in waving ringlets over the 
shapely shoulders, while the dress, like that of some 
ancient Jewish princess, consisted only of a loose 
robe of some rich black material, falling to the 
ground and fastened at the waist with a delicately 
jeweled girdle and cut just low enough in the neck 
to expose the white and perfectly rounded throat 
to the best advantage. Never was woman more 
radiantly beautiful than she, a beauty to which 
wealth, fashion and adornment could add nothing, 
and which, with her splendid mental endowments 
well fitted her to be what at that moment she really 
appeared to be — Nature’s uncrowned queen. 

For a few moments they chatted about the 
storm, the flowers, and the sunset they had just 
witnessed while she finished trimming her plants, 
then as the evening shadows were beginning to fall 


1 1 8 Satan of the Modem World. 


she led the way into the house and to the parlor, 
where her parents were sitting. She then excused 
herself that she might remove the traces of her out- 
door work. 

The old people greeted him kindly, as they were 
most happy to see him again, and the three con- 
versed on various subjects such as new-made 
friends are apt to choose until Virginia returned. 

Thereupon Harry, without any preliminary 
apologies went straight to the heart of the subject 
in which he had interested himself and made his 
errand known. He spoke in earnest, eloquent 
tones, telling of the plans he had in view for chang- 
ing the environment and bettering the condition of 
the young people who were growing to manhood 
and womanhood in the community. 

He did not blame them for being ambitious, for 
.ambition was the forerunner of civilization and 
progress. He did not blame them that they longed 
for a more attractive and beautiful place in which 
to dwell, for it was but a natural impulse of the 
heart to long for something better in life. But 
what they were to be blamed for was the existence 
of the very conditions of which they complained 
and the unhappy environment in which they were 
placed. 

He then spoke of the desirability of making the 
village a place of beauty, of learning and culture, 
a place in which the young folks of the community 
could take pride and a place wherein they could 
find all the advantages that were to be obtained in 
a city, such as education, culture, society, parks and 
libraries, everything in fact that adds to the beau- 


Satan of the Modern World. 119 

ties of life without its pitfalls and snares, the slums 
and brothel. 

It was a false theory, he continued to explain, 
and one that had long stood in the way of a higher 
development of agriculture, that education was not 
essential to a successfully conducted farm. Farm- 
ing was as much of a business as manufacturing, 
and required as much brains and as good manage- 
ment to insure success. Lack of education was the 
reason of there being so many mortgaged farms 
and such unsatisfactory conditions in the country. 
Kill that prejudice, drive all false pride from the 
heart and teach in its place a true conception of 
life, then instead of the scienpe of agriculture being 
carried on by the plodders of the race, as they were 
called, among those who till the soil in future years 
will be some of the most profound thinkers and 
foremost scholars of the land. “To those who 
maintain that life on a farm is like living in a 
desert I do not hesitate to say that a visit to Maple 
Lawn will dispel that delusion/’ 

He then outlined the first step. It was to find 
a suitable place in which a free reading-room and 
library could be established, the books to be loaned 
to those living within a radius of five miles of the 
village. To accomplish this end he would con- 
tribute two hundred volumes of standard works, 
and as soon as the contributions of others should 
reach a like number he would add to it a hundred 
more. Furthermore he would deliver a course of 
lectures at the church on literature and travel, 
charging a small admission fee, the proceeds of 
which should be used in furnishing the reading- 


120 Satan of the Modem World. 

room with suitable literature in the way of papers 
and magazines. 

As he ceased speaking he was pleased to find that 
the Judge not only voiced his sentiments, but 
promised his hearty co-operation as well by agree- 
ing to contribute one hundred volumes towards 
making up the required number. Virginia, too, 
was enthusiastic over the plan and pledged her sup- 
port, for anything that would benefit the com- 
munity at large was sure to enlist her sympathy. 
It needed not the long explanation to convince her 
of the need of such an institution in their midst, 
for well she knew what a vast amount of good 
could be accomplished thereby ! Still she listened 
in silence, her eyes glowing with admiration as she 
noted the elegance of his speech and the ease and 
confidence with which he carried himself. She was 
no more charmed, however, by the simplicity and 
elegance of his language than by his deep, musical 
voice which rose and fell so pleasantly on the ear. 

“What do you think of it, child?” asked the 
J udge, turning to her for an opinion. 

“I quite agree with Mr. Brown that it is a meas- 
ure which if successfully carried out will be the 
means of accomplishing a vast amount of good. I 
have often deplored the need of such an insti- 
tution at the village, but have always been at a 
loss to see how it could be established. But it does 
not seem so hard now that there is some one to 
take the lead,” she added, with a gentle smile. 

“Then I will speak to Mr. Thornwaite to-mor- 
row and have him call a meeting at the church to 
consider what can be done about it,” said the 
Judge, “and I firmly believe we can devise means 


Satan of the Modem World. 121 


of carrying out your plan, Mr. Brown. I am 
deeply grateful to you for the interest you are 
taking in the welfare of the young people here, for 
it is a melancholy fact that the community has 
been drained of its best young men and women 
who, through false pride, have wandered away to 
some distant city only to be lost in the great whirl- 
pool of fashion and folly. But can’t you sing some- 
thing for us, child,” turning to Virginia, “some- 
thing that will take us away from our melan- 
choly thought and make life seem a little more 
cheerful ?” 

Obediently she arose and going to the piano sang 
as Harry had never heard her sing before, a cheer- 
ful, happy song that brought a smile even to the 
face of her stern old father. And last of all she 
sang a song that was a favorite with the Judge, a 
song that was familiar to everyone, and as she sang 
the sad story of the faithful old preacher who had 
labored all his life in the midst of an ungrateful 
flock, she sang it with such sweet, sad pathos, 
that to Harry sitting there, it almost seemed that 
he himself was the old man who sat with bowed 
head and broken heart over the cruel message. 
And when at last it ended, and the sweet, sad voice 
had died away, he arose, bade them “good-night” 
and walked out into the balmy air with a strange 
feeling of peace and happiness in his heart, a 
“peace that passeth all understanding.” 


122 Satan of the Modern World. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE SOIL ON WHICH THE SEED FELL. 

As the Rev. James Thorn waite begins to figure 
conspicuously in our story, let us pause a moment 
and take a brief survey of the man and his career, 
not as they are known to the world, but as read by 
himself, and by the light of his conscience, the 
story as it is written on his heart. Between what 
men really are and what they appear to the world 
to be, there is ofttimes a vast difference. Some- 
times this is a fact to be deplored. Undoubtedly, 
though, at other times it is better that the world 
judges only by outward appearances, knowing not 
nor caring not what is written in the heart, thus 
giving them the benefit of whatever doubts that 
may arise; and such, let us believe, was true in 
the case of the village Parson. 

Harry Brown had, as we have already observed, 
after an houPs conversation with him, reached the 
conclusion that the Parson was not such a bad sort 
of a fellow as he might be, even though he was a 
preacher — a class of men with whom he had min- 
gled but little, and for whose company he cared 
even less. Yet in this case it was different for 
some reason. There was something about this lean, 
lank individual too deep for him to fathom, some- 


Satan of the Modem World. 123 

thing, too, which interested him and appealed to 
his sympathy. It was not that he supposed the 
Parson to stand in actual need of his sympathy, 
yet, often when in conversation, particularly when 
the conversation drifted towards religious matters, 
the Parson would seem to speak with an apparent 
effort at earnestness, while at the same time an 
absent, faraway look in his eyes would tell that 
the effort was a forced one, and that there was 
something on his mind of more importance than 
the subject under discussion. At times his 
thoughts, notwithstanding his efforts to the con- 
trary, would appear to wander far from the theme 
under discussion, and for a moment or two the 
words would fall from his lips in an aimless, ram- 
bling manner, then with a startled look on his thin, 
bony face, he would suddenly awake from the 
dreamland to which his vagrant thoughts had car- 
ried him only to be more confused than before. 

Almost from the moment they had met Harry 
had conceived a liking for him which grew stronger 
as time passed on until at last it ripened into a 
deep and lasting friendship. To Harry Brown it 
seemed strange that such a friendship should 
spring up between them, that across the wide gulf 
which lay between the two extremes of theology 
that they represented a deep undercurrent of sym- 
pathy should exist; but as we become better ac- 
quainted with the reverend gentleman in question 
it will not be so hard for us to understand after all. 

With this brief mention of the beginning of 
the Parson’s and Harry’s friendship, we will now 
take leave of him for the present and note what 
success the plan for a free library met with in the 


124 Satan of the Modern World. 

old village church. It had been duly announced 
at both morning and evening service on Sunday 
that a meeting would be held in the church Tues- 
day evening to consider the advisability of mak- 
ing some arrangements for the establishment of a 
free public library and reading-room in the village 
of Yerne. Much surprise had been manifested as 
the announcement was made, especially among the 
“old-timers,” many curious and enquiring glances 
were exchanged, but no one seemed able to throw 
any light on the subject whatever, and probably it 
was ignorance and curiosity combined that kept 
interest alive and filled the church to overflowing 
when the evening came. 

In front, near the altar, sat Harry Brown, Mr. 
Thomwaite, the Judge and Virginia conversing 
in low tones, and from the earnestness of their con- 
versation it was evident that the subject under dis- 
cussion was of more than ordinary interest. Over 
the audience which had assembled there in such 
large numbers, scarcely knowing why they came, a 
strange and almost oppressive silence reigned. Just 
exactly what was going to happen, what was going 
to be said or done, no one seemed to know, and to 
find that out was the thought uppermost in every 
mind. But curiosity and silence were never in- 
tended to go hand in hand through the world. 
Therefore as soon as the silence was broken by a 
whisper in a distant corner of the room all eyes 
were instantly turned in that direction and every 
breath w r as stilled. The one addressed gave a whis- 
pered reply and the ice was broken. A look of 
relief came over the faces of all, while over in 
another corner where half a dozen or more women 


Satan of the Modem World. 125 

were gathered in a group the temptation to gossip 
became too strong to be resisted. 

“I wonder,” said old maid Van Curen, “if it’s 
that yonng dude feller Brown that is startin’ this 
new-fangled idear abont a readin’-room and 
library ? Seems to me fer a feller as never’s come 
to meetin’ any more’n he has he’s havin’ a good 
deal to say lately! And I declare to goodness,” 
she continued, as she saw Virginia turn to Harry 
with a smile on her face, “if he and the Judge’s 
darter ain’t gettin’ jest tew spoony for anything !” 

“Should say as much,” said Mrs. Smith, of the 
elevated oven fame. “And rite afore all us folks, 
too ! Bet ’twould make Ike Thompson madder’n 
a hornet if he’d see ’em now. Ike alius did have 
his heart dead sot on her, too. I tell you what, he 
give more’n one mighty good girl the ga-by jest to 
try and shine around her, thinkin’, I guess, as how 
he’d have the Jedge’s fine farm and all the money 
he’s got laid away to spend some day. But some- 
how, she don’t sorter seem to take to Ike. I won- 
der why it is?” she continued, as Miss Van Curen 
remained silent, not seeming to care to discuss the 
subject further. “He’s a mighty smart feller, Ike 
is ; he’s bin clear through college and knows a heap 
site more’n that dude she’s talkin’ to now with all 
his fine farm and new-fangled idears about readin’- 
rooms and sech like. ’Pears to me this Brown 
don’t ’mount to much, nohow. Some say. as how 
he’s smart, but why the goodness don’t he make 
some use of his smartness if he’s got so much of 
it ? Why ain’t he a lawyer or a doctor, or even a 
school-teacher, or suthin’ the kind? Looks to me 
as if he don’t know enuff to be anything. And, 


126 Satan of the Modern World. 


land sakes, he can’t farm! He don’t raise no 
wheat to speak of, no corn, jest loafs around and 
lets them heathens do as they please.” 

The old maid, being one of the unfortunates 
whom Ike had given the “mitten,” colored deeply 
at the first remark and something on the wall at- 
tracted her attention, though there was nothing 
there but the bare wall. However, by the time her 
neighbor ceased speaking she had regained her 
composure sufficient to remark: 

“I wonder if Ike is coming to-night? ’Pears to 
me he ain’t.” 

“Maybe he won’t come at all, seein’ as how the 
Jedge’s darter give him the mitten so bad the other 
night, and rite before all of us, too,” replied Mrs. 
Smith. “My, but wasn’t he hoppin’ mad, though ? 
He jest sot rite there at the table all through 
supper, as still as if a cat had got his tongue and 
snapped his teeth at every bite he took. He made 
me think of a toad catchin’ flies; and rite behind 
him stood that fool Chinaman, grinnin’ the hull 
time. I’ll bet a doughnut he was set up to it, too.” 

“Well, I don’t blame him a bit for gettin’ mad,” 
snapped Miss Van Curen, with more temper than 
she usually displayed; “he’s jest as good as any 
Randolph any day in the week, even if one of them 
’\vay back in ancient times did sign the Declara- 
tion of Independence. Virginia don’t need to feel 
so awful big, either, jest because she can sing 
better’n the rest of us, and paint pictures. Any- 
body could paint pictures if they had the time 
and money to throw away learnin’, but to my way 
o’ thinkin’ it’s all folderol, this payin’ out money 
to learn to paint when for a dollar you can get a 


Satan of the Modem World. 127 

paper for a year and a dozen big pictures throwed 
in that’s jest as pretty as them oil paintin’s of 
hers.” 

“Hush!” whispered Mrs. Smith; “the Jedge’s 
goin’ to say suthin’. I wonder what it is about? 
Why, and there’s Ike, too ! My, but don’t he look 
proud, though !” 

To her it may have looked like pride, but to a 
more careful observer it would have looked a great 
deal more like arrogance and conceit that was writ- 
ten on Ike’s countenance as he walked up the aisle 
and sat down in the farthest corner without notic- 
ing any of those about him. Then, just as he was 
seated, the Judge began to speak. 

“Friends and neighbors,” said he, in a deep, 
though pleasant voice, “if you will allow me I 
will take the liberty of appointing our pastor, a 
man whom you all honor, and who rightfully 
holds the confidence of all, both old and young, to 
preside over and explain the object of this meeting, 
after which we shall be glad to listen to any sug- 
gestion that may be offered.” 

The Parson then arose and in a simple, straight- 
forward manner spoke as follows: 

“Brothers and Sisters: At the request of our 
venerable and worthy brother, Mr. ^Randolph, I 
have called a meeting to-night that we might con- 
sider the question and devise means of establishing 
a free library and reading-room here in the village ; 
the reading-room to be free to all comers and the 
library for the benefit only of those who live within 
a radius of five miles ; that those living within said 
distance may borrow books free of charge for home 
use. To those who have never given a moment’s 


128 Satan of the Modern World. 


thought to such a plan, the outlook may seem dis- 
couraging; yet I am happy to state that such is not 
the case. On the contrary, the prospects for suc- 
cessfully carrying out such an enterprise are ex- 
ceedingly bright. Our gifted young friend, Mr. 
Brown, whom I take pleasure in saying is the orig- 
inator of the plan for this much needed institu- 
tion, has offered to contribute two hundred vol- 
umes to begin with, and a hundred more as soon as 
an equal number has been contributed. Of the two 
hundred which must be given in order to gain the 
second gift, Mr. Randolph has cheerfully promised 
to give half, which now leaves but one hundred to 
come from the whole community to swell the num- 
ber to five hundred, which is without doubt ten 
times the number of books to which any one of us 
has access at the present time. Nor is this all the 
encouragement we have received. In addition to 
this most generous offer, Mr. Brown has con- 
sented to deliver a course of lectures, to be given 
at intervals of two weeks, two on literature and 
four on his travels and impressions of foreign 
lands, these to be illustrated with views taken by 
himself. To these lectures a nominal admission 
fee will be charged and the proceeds used in sup- 
plying the reading-room with suitable literature, 
such as daily papers, magazines and journals of all 
the arts and sciences. 

“All that now remains to make this undertak- 
ing a grand success is to provide for it a suitable 
place, furnish it properly and then appoint a few 
young people who are sufficiently interested in 
the welfare of the village to donate their services, 
one for each evening of the week and Saturday 


^ Satan of the Modem World. 129 

afternoon, the only time during the day it will be 
open for some time. 

“It may be that there are some here who do not 
realize the vast importance of the undertaking now 
under consideration, or the benefit a community 
derives from having one in their midst. To such, 
if there be any, I wish to say a few words. The 
world in which we live to-day is, in many respects, 
different from what it has been in any other age, 
either in ancient or modern times. It is different 
from that at the beginning of our era, different 
from that at the beginning of our century, and dif- 
ferent from that in which I spent my boyhood’s 
days dreaming of the great things I fancied then 
the- future held in store for me. The progress 
made by the world in the short space of my life- 
time is almost too great to be realized and forms a 
theme too vast for my feeble intellect to grapple 
with to-night ; therefore in the short space of time 
allotted me I will but briefly mention one of the 
most important factors of this wonderful progress, 
one which forms the bulwarks on which all prog- 
ress and civilization rests, education. It has been 
said times without end that this is an age of 
progression, but more truthfully speaking, it is an 
era of education, an era in which no one is so poor 
that they cannot obtain it, and none so rich that 
they can afford to do without it. 

“Never before in the history of the world has 
education been so universal, never before have 
there been so many schools, never before have there 
been so many children attending them, and never 
before have there been so many boys and girls in 
humble circumstances determined to gain an edu- 


130 Satan of the Modern World. 

cation, no matter what obstacles are to be over- 
come. I will state further that in no one par- 
ticular has there been a greater change than in the 
conduct and ambitions of the young people who are 
growing to manhood and womanhood in the land 
to-day; that they no longer attend school for the 
sole purpose of bullying the teacher and destroying 
the discipline of the school-room as in days of 
yore; also that the successful teacher of to-day is 
not the one who carries the qualities which count 
for success in the prize ring, but who stands high- 
est before the examining board. The children of 
to-day are different from those of any other age. 
Now and then one may run away from school to 
play, but more often they run away from home to 
go to school, and when a day or two goes by in 
which they are confined to their bed with sickness, 
there with them will be found their books, and if 
they are able to sit up they are studying with all 
diligence lest they should be behind their class 
even for a day. Many of those who grew to man- 
hood with me were unable, through their own neg- 
lect to read or write, but where is the American 
boy or girl, who at the age of ten cannot read well 
and write a fairly good hand? They are not to 
be found outside the slums of some great city, 
and even there but seldom. Vast multitudes of 
those who dwell in foreign lands and look with 
scorn upon our great Republic are unlettered, but 
the meanest youth among us would consider it an 
everlasting disgrace should the same be said of 
him. 

“Nor is the thirst for knowledge confined to any 
one section of our native land. The spirit of edu- 


Satan of the Modem World. 13 1 

cation is abroad in the cities, in the towns, in every 
village and hamlet, and by every fireside. There 
is in this community to-day a craving for knowl- 
edge, a craving that is only aggravated and made 
more intense by perceiving the advantages that 
come to those who dwell in the cities and larger 
towns. It is a natural desire that is born in the 
soul, and as the years go by with the opportuni- 
ties for which they have longed always just be- 
yond reach, the soul sinks into the deepest melan- 
choly, and the remainder of life is embittered be- 
cause the goal of their ambition had not been 
reached. Those who seek for a higher education 
than our village school affords, and cannot afford 
the time and money necessary to obtain it in other 
places, can gain it only by having access to all 
the great literature of the world. But where is 
that to be obtained? The few good books which 
most of us can afford are but a crumb to a starving 
brain. A splendid private library is a possession 
of which one may be justly proud, but how many 
are there here who can afford it? None. Then 
if you can spare the money for but a half dozen 
books are they not of more value to you in a pub- 
lic library than a hundred would be in a private 
one? Five hundred volumes in a home is, to the 
masses, but a dream never to be realized; yet if 
that number of us have each one book and place 
it in a room for the common use of all, our dream 
is then realized, and our range of learning becomes 
wide. With a reading-room it is the same. Each 
one takes one, perhaps two papers; yet suppose 
each of a hundred were to take a different paper 
and use them in common, then we have access to 


132 Satan of the Modem World. 

the whole great realm of thought. Then you will 
no longer have to go to large cities and to foreign 
lands to study the great world, but at compara- 
tively small cost the world, so to speak, is brought 
to your very doors, into your lives and to your 
homes and firesides.” 

The venerable, white-haired Henry Lacy arose 
and enquired if the upper story of his store build- 
ing would answer for the present, and on being in- 
formed that it would, stated that he would have it 
cleaned and newly papered, and give a lease of it 
for five years free of charge. This generous offer 
was applauded most heartily by those interested. 
The village carpenter then offered to do the work 
on the benches and shelves provided some one 
would furnish the lumber, and several others not 
to be outdone, instantly came forward with the 
promise of all the material necessary. For libra- 
rian Virginia was unanimously chosen. A call 
then was made for assistants and several young 
people arose and offered their services; after 
which all necessary arrangements were declared 
to be complete. The Judge then made a short 
speech congratulating them on the happy outcome 
of the meeting, the chairman dismissed them, each 
going homeward feeling better for having Harry 
Brown in their midst. 

The plan adopted was speedily put into exe- 
cution and successfully carried out. Under 
Harry’s watchful eye the work w r as commenced 
the following day. The room was thoroughly 
cleansed and repaired, the benches, tables and 
shelves made ; all requiring nearly two weeks’ time. 
No sooner was it all complete, the last shelf 


Satan of the Modem World. 133 

polished, the last nail driven, than the books were 
at hand. That they were there so early was due to 
the activity of Virginia. Before they left the 
church the night of the meeting Harry had handed 
her a list of books from a publishing house with 
which he was well acquainted, requesting that as 
she was the librarian she should select the books 
she considered best, saying that he would settle 
with the publisher later on. The Judge said she 
might as well select for him, too, so, with prompt- 
ness and energy characteristic of all her actions, 
she had filled out the list before retiring that 
night and was up in the morning in time to walk 
to the village and see the letter safely off on the 
six o’clock train. The work on the new library 
was finished on Saturday, and the following day 
the Parson requested all having books to donate 
to bring them in at once and they would be thank- 
fully received, no matter what they were. Though 
there were many visitors less than a dozen books 
were brought in the first day. This, however, 
did not dampen the spirits of the leaders of the 
enterprise as the new ones were there and they 
were too busy with them to take notice. But those 
who “didn’t think ’twould ’mount to much nohow,” 
and “jest came in to look on,” when they saw the 
new books coming out of the boxes in bright, 
new covers, more books than they had ever seen 
in their lives, and realized that they, too, could 
take them home, they began to feel ashamed that 
they had taken so little interest in the work, and 
pride began to swell in their hearts. 

The following day there was a reaction. Those 
who came the day before to look on came this time 


134 Satan of the Modern World. 

bringing books, some with one or two, some with 
a dozen, and others with an armful. Some showed 
excellent taste in their contributions, some brought 
those that were of no use to themselves just to get 
rid of them, and some brought everything in 
sight. In one armful was found a book of Psalms, 
an old spelling book, a hymn book ; but there were 
two or three, however, which more than compen- 
sated for the worthlessness of the others, being 
old volumes of rare value. Though the task was 
arduous it had many amusing features which con- 
vinced Harry that humor was by no means con- 
fined to any walk of life or section of the country. 
One day a man came in bringing about a dozen 
time-worn volumes, and by way of explana- 
tion, said: “Here’s a few books I brought down 
jest to git ’em out of the way. They’re no good 
to me, and I guess one of ’em won’t be no ac- 
count to you, either. If you can’t use it, though, 
I’ll take it back, for I don’t believe in throwing 
anything away.” 

“What particular grudge have you against the 
book?” asked Harry. 

“Why, the fool that wrote it couldn’t spell, 
that’s what’s the matter with it. Can’t spell a 
little easy word like dog. DOGGE, he spelt it. 
Why, the very idear. Big fool as I am I could beat 
that all holler when I was six years old.” 

Harry thanked him, and his curiosity being 
aroused, examined it to find it a rare old volume 
published in England in the seventeenth century. 

It was Saturday afternoon when they had com- 
pleted their task. Instead of the four hundred 
volumes, all they had dared hope for, they were 


Satan of the Modem World. 135 

happily surprised to find that the catalogue num- 
bered nearly two thousand. As had been antici- 
pated there was a great rush that afternoon as 
nearly every one was in from the country, and each 
wanted to take a book home, if only for the novelty 
of the thing. Harry and Virginia and the as- 
sistants were kept busy all the afternoon, not that 
there was an extraordinarily large number of books 
loaned but there was a large number of questions 
to be asked and answered. Late in the afternoon 
there came in a man past the prime of life, Samuel 
Winters, better known in the community, however, 
as Sorghum Sam on account of a venture he had 
made in raising sorghum cane a few years before. 

“I want to get a book/’ he said, coming up to 
the desk where Harry was standing. “They told 
me down t' the office you had 'em to lend here." 

“Yes, sir; do you wish to take it home?" 

“Bet yer life I dew !" said Sam. 

“Very well, just sign your name here, please," 
and Harry filled out a blank and pushed it over 
to him. 

Sam looked dubious for a moment, then asked: 

“'Tain't a note, is it?" 

“Ho; not exactly, though by signing that you 
agree to pay for all books that may be lost or 
damaged while in your possession." 

“Oh, is that all ? Well, you kin jest bet I won't 
lose or damage anything that's to be paid for." 

“And here is your card which you must always 
bring with you when you want a book ; and if you 
lose that you lose also your privilege." 

“By mighty, but you folks are mighty perticu- 
ler ! And, say, what's that big book with the pretty 


136 Satan of the Modern World. 

gold covers?” and he pointed to a large, hand- 
some volume. 

“That is a history of the Parliament of Relig- 
ions in Chicago at the time of the World’s Fair.” 

“Well, by gosh, I want it anyhow. I’m goin’ 
to show the old woman a book when I get home 
sech as she’s never seen the likes of afore.” 

But how fared the reading-room? The tables 
were bountifully supplied with reading matter 
and when the evening came it was filled to over- 
flowing. Not all who came were there to read, 
however. Some came for the novelty of the 
thing, for a new place in which to loaf, being 
tired of the streets, the counters and cracker bar- 
rels of the stores ; some came just to see what was 
going on, and others because they saw before them 
an opportunity of reading and studying where 
heretofore there had been nothing to attract 
them but the slow, dull monotony of the streets. 
For the first time in their lives they saw before 
them all the great metropolitan papers and maga- 
zines of all the arts and sciences, and every even- 
ing found them there oblivious to their sur- 
roundings. 

Those who came just to look on and idle away 
a few dull hours soon found that there was but 
little to look at, and taking up a paper or maga- 
zine just to make believe they had come in to read, 
soon became as deeply interested as the others. 
Even the professional loungers were quiet and or- 
derly, and, finding it a dull place in which to loaf, 
soon took their departure. 


Satan of the Modern World. 137 


CHAPTER IX. 

behold! the harvest is great! 

A week has now passed and gone since we took 
leave of Harry Brown and Virginia Randolph. It 
is at the close of the first week during which the 
infant library had been thrown open to the public, 
and as Harry walked along the village streets that 
summer’s evening, they seemed strangely quiet 
and deserted. No idle noisy throng was there, 
gathered in wrangling, gossiping groups upon the 
street corners, leaning against the buildings, the 
lampposts in front of the stores, obstructing the 
sidewalks and making life miserable for the store- 
keepers and those who came to patronize them. 

Wondering what could possibly have taken place, 
he entered the post office, and there, too, found 
something missing from the ordinary life of the 
place. Of the familiar faces of those who had 
gathered nightly there, sitting on the counters, 
cracker barrels and dry goods boxes, gossiping 
among themselves or “ joshing” the clerk, not one 
was to be seen, and instead of the usual senseless 
chatter and drawl, all was silent as the tomb. 

“What’s the matter around here?” he asked of 
the clerk who was sitting on the counter looking 
as lonesome as Crusoe on his island. “Where’s the 
gang? All dead?” 


138 Satan of the Modern World. 

“I don’t know/’ was the reply; “but something 
strange appears to have happened, though. They 
began to drop off one at a time about a week ago, 
and now they never come here except as decent 
people do, to get what they want and go on about 
their business.” 

“Doesn’t it make you feel rather lonesome ?” 

“Well, I may feel a trifle that way now and 
then, but at the same time I have drawn several 
mighty big sighs of relief since they took a tumble 
and stayed away. It was an awful nuisance having 
that gang of loafers here all the time with their 
everlasting blarney, and you can easily imagine 
how tired I got of it at times. Say, do you see 
that row of pencil marks the whole length of that 
shelf there? Well, you may not believe it, but I 
hope to die if it ain’t so, that row of marks records 
the number of times old Sorghum Sam has told 
how he came to put in that old press of his and 
why he began raising sorghum cane. Every time 
he told it, if I was not too busy, I would chalk it 
down and there you have the result. The worst of 
it was, that old Sam wasn’t the only one of his 
kind. Of course, I couldn’t say anything about it, 
for they all traded here, and consequently thought 
they owned the place. All the good it would have 
done would have been to lose their trade. But it 
was a blessing, whatever it was, that took them 
away, and I hope the blessing will continue to 
come in showers if they’ll only stay.” 

There were two other stores beyond there, and 
as Harry passed them he looked in, but they, too, 
were deserted except for one lone customer. He 
passed on up to the library, went in behind the 


Satan of the Modem World. 139 

desk to chat with the assistant librarian concern- 
ing the progress of the new enterprise, as he usu- 
ally did when he visited there, and as he cast his 
eyes around the well filled reading-room, he saw 
there busily reading, every one of the old time 
post office “gang.” 

The clerk had spoken wiser than he thought 
when he said it was a blessing, whatever it was, that 
had taken them away. It was more, it was a 
double blessing, for it was as much a benefit to them 
as to him. 

The seeds had fallen on fertile soil, had taken 
root and were growing fast, and it required no 
prophetic vision to predict what the harvest would 

be. 

Another week passed by and the Saturday night 
came on which Harry was to deliver his first 
lecture in the village church. He had chosen for 
his subject one which would not only attract and 
interest them, but would instruct them as well; 
and he resolved that it should be a success, for 
upon the success of the first one depended, in a 
great measure, his future prestige among the peo- 
ple he was seeking to benefit. He would sound the 
depth of their minds on the lighter and more at- 
tractive subjects, leading them gradually up to his 
own realm of thought, and when he had found 
them sufficiently interested, would speak to them 
of the great problems in which he was himself 
so deeply interested. Therefore he chose for his 
subject “Japan, the Land of Flowers,” and it was 
appropriately illustrated with views taken by him- 
self while traveling through the Orient. 

As he arose to speak it was easily to be seen by 


140 Satan of the Modern World. 

the large audience assembled, that the opinion of 
the villagers regarding the so-called “aristocrat” 
of Maple Lawn had greatly changed within the 
past month. They listened eagerly as he de- 
scribed with simplicity and eloquence, and in a 
most charming manner the lovely Island of Japan, 
its beautiful scenery, quaint architecture, manners 
and customs, and the queer little homes on the 
steep sides of the mountains, with gardens planted 
to the very top. In some places the whole sides were 
covered with hundreds of little gardens, some of 
them not more than two or three feet in width, 
forming thus a striking contrast to our own land 
with its countless thousands of acres of waste 
land. 

He spoke of it as a land without horses and of 
the strange scene with a multitude of rickshaws 
threading the narrow, winding streets, drawn by 
human beasts of burden, the only means of travel 
afforded by many of the cities. Of the missionary 
movement he did not speak in very favorable 
terms, not but that some of the missionaries were 
good men and women; but the Japanese were a 
wonderfully progressive people and as a whole were 
fast becoming one of the most enlightened and best 
educated nations of the earth. 

“While the missionaries,” he said, “succeeded 
fairly well in convincing them that Shintoism was 
not a true faith, they had been unable to prove to 
the satisfaction of the Japanese that Christianity 
was in any way a better or more authentic one. 
Therefore, as fast as they had fallen away from 
their fathers’ gods, they, with few exceptions 
(and those few from the more ignorant classes) 


Satan of the Modem World. 141 

refuse to accept another and became materialists 
pure and simple.” 

As he brought his lecture to a close, there was 
an outburst of applause, something out of the 
usual order of events in the life of the sleepy old 
Puritan village. As the people passed out into the 
soft warm July night, congratulating him as they 
went, he saw young Thompson pass by, the expres- 
sion of scorn which had rested upon his face as he 
sat in the corner listening to the lecture, having 
changed now to one of envy and hatred. He 
scowled darkly as he passed, but it was forgotten 
by Harry almost as soon as seen, for he had too 
much cause for present happiness to see the dark 
clouds looming up in the distance which threat- 
ened to engulf his hopes, his ambitions and his 
future happiness. 

Well indeed might he be happy, well might he 
be satisfied with the result of the lecture, for it 
was a success, both financially to the library and 
socially to himself. He had made good use of the 
splendid talents with which nature had so gener- 
ously endowed him, and was now the idol of the 
village people. He received the homage, respect 
and esteem of the people with a grateful heart, 
but for the prestige and influence it gave him, he 
cared naught except that through it he might ac- 
complish a vast amount of good in their midst. 

Thus the golden days of summer passed slowly 
by, and as Harry Brown dreamed his happy day 
dreams and labored for the benefit of his fellow- 
men, the days glided into weeks, the weeks length- 
ened slowly into months, — autumn had come again. 
Jack Frost had come and nipped the flowers, and 


142 Satan of the Modem World. 

instead of bright blossoms, instead of the glad 
face of earth smiling in a raiment of shimmering 
green, nothing but a dying vegetation remained 
to greet the eye, nothing but a dying autumn 
world. 

One by one the song birds had migrated to a 
more sunny clime, while the foliage of the trees 
whence but a few months before had come their 
melodious songs, had taken on a tinge of golden 
red, and were rustling over the dead grass, blown 
hither and thither before the autumn winds. But 
what of the sleepy village of which we took our 
leave but four months ago with its tiny library of 
two thousand volumes? Four months is a short 
space of time, yet short as it is a great and won- 
drous change has taken place there. 

The deep interest the people had taken in the 
library had surpassed even the fondest dreams of 
the two foremost in promoting it. The money de- 
rived from the first lecture was more than sufficient 
to supply the reading-room with the best literature 
for a year to come, consequently it was decided 
to use the proceeds of the remaining lectures in 
purchasing new books. The lecture on J apan had 
been so well received and appreciated by all who 
attended it, that its fame had spread to the Falls 
and surrounding villages and far out into the coun- 
try. When the evening came for the following 
one to be given, young and old alike came from 
miles around “to hear,” as one expressed it, “that 
young feller talk that had them fine pictures he 
had taken himself on the other side of the earth.” 

For the first time in its history the old village 
church was crowded to its capacity with even 


Satan of the Modem World. 143 

standing room at a premium. Egypt was the 
subject of the lecture, and was without doubt his 
most masterly effort, for it was received with un- 
bounded interest and great enthusiasm. 

A consultation had taken place early in the even- 
ing between Harry, Virginia and the Parson, and 
it was decided at the close of the lecture the Par- 
son should announce that in consideration of the 
fact that the people were taking unusual interest 
in the lectures, and as the money thus received 
was all for the general good of the public, they 
had decided that the price of admission should 
be raised from fifteen to fifty cents for the re- 
maining lectures. 

He took particular pains to impress upon their 
minds that the money thus raised would only add 
so many more volumes to the fast growing library ; 
yet, as might be expected, some grumbled and 
found fault with the high handed measures, as 
they called it, and stayed away from the remaining 
lectures, but for every one who stayed away on 
that account, a dozen came, to whom knowledge 
was worth more than gold, and for the four re- 
maining lectures the church was overcrowded, and 
many turned away. 

As fast as the money was poured into the treas- 
ury it was expended for new books, and soon the 
library which had been founded on the promise 
of only three hundred volumes, had assumed pro- 
portions of which a fair sized city would have no 
cause to feel ashamed. 

Then it was that something of a strange and 
startling nature happened, something of which 
even Harry Brown, progressive as he was, had 


144 Satan of the Modern World. 

never dreamed, and woke the sleepy village up 
to a conception of life as nothing short of a miracle 
could have done at any other time. Just about 
a month before the opening of school there came 
from all directions applications from non-resident 
students to the number of over a hundred for the 
privilege of attending the village school for the 
coming year. 

None of them presumed to say that it was in 
any way a better school than the one he had been 
attending, but stated, without exception, that it 
was on account of having the benefit of a free pub- 
lic library in connection with their studies. To 
say that this news was startling would simply be 
making a mild statement concerning a very serious 
affair. 

The old school at best could accommodate no 
more than twenty-five students outside of those 
already in attendance, so what was to be done? 

Something, certainly, for as progression was now 
the motto of the village, they must grapple with 
the problem in some way, but how ? Certainly not 
by standing still, thinking about it and waiting for 
one another! A meeting of the board was called 
with all haste, but the board failed to agree on any- 
thing definite, an old failing boards are in the 
habit of having. 

Thereupon a mass meeting was called, and at 
the earnest invitation of the Judge, Harry at- 
tended, although he was not directly corncerned in 
the matter. Judge Randolph was the first one to 
speak, and made a strong plea for a new high 
school. “While it is quite an expense to build 
schoolhouses,” he said, “the burden will fall but 


Satan of the Modern World. 145 

lightly on each, and if you will agree to bond 
the village for the money, I will advance the 
amount so that the erection of the new building 
can be begun at once.” 

But the Objector is always around; always dog- 
ging the heels of progress, and silence is not his 
motto. “There may be a hundred students this 
year,” he harped, mournfully, “but next year there 
may be none, then we will have an empty school- 
house on our hands to pay for that will never be of 
any benefit to anyone.” 

“In that case, then,” replied the Judge, “I will 
buy up all the bonds and give them back to you, 
and the building will be my individual property. 
But such will never be the case. If our library can 
draw hither a hundred students when in its in- 
fancy, what will be the result a year hence if it 
continues to have the rapid growth it has main- 
tained so far?” 

On being asked for an opinion, Harry sup- 
ported the position taken by the Judge. “What 
made Alexandria great?” he asked. “A great 
public library. What made Cordova and Bagdad 
great? Their public libraries; and what makes 
Boston great to-day? It is not a great manufac- 
turing center ; not a great commercial seaport, yet 
there you meet more learning and culture than in 
any city in the country. Students are drawn there 
from every corner of the land by its superior edu- 
cational advantages, and its great libraries, and 
not by its opulence and wealth, or its industrial 
and commercial predominance. The same thing 
may be accomplished here in our humble village, 
though it will be some time before we can aspire to 


146 Satan of the Modern World. 

Boston’s greatness as a seat of learning and cul- 
ture. Still we have the most healthful climate in 
the world, some of the grandest scenery, and now 
all that is wanted to open the door to future great- 
ness is to make accommodations for all who wish 
to come. 

“Do this, and a few years hence you can look 
back to this day as the one most glorious in the 
history of the village, a day of which each and 
every one can speak with pride, and the building, 
which I hope will soon be erected here in your 
midst, will stand a monument to remind future 
generations that greatness is to be found in small 
villages as well as in great metropolitan centers.” 

Nothing more was necessary to be said for that 
settled the whole affair, and to the satisfaction of 
all concerned. The very next day ground was 
broken on which a fine, large, brick school build- 
ing was erected with all possible speed. Word 
was then heralded abroad that all who wished to 
come could find ample accommodations. As there 
was no possibility of having the new school ready 
at the time of the regular opening, they waited 
and opened both the old school and the new to* 
gether a month later, which brings us up to the 
date of Harry’s last lecture, which was his seventh, 
having been persuaded to deliver one more a few 
days after the opening of the schools. 

The students that came from the outside filled 
up the new school, and the old one still had to be 
used for the younger pupils, while every family 
in the vicinity who cared to take them had from 
one to three respectable boarders; while the li- 
brary which started with only three hundred vol- 


Satan of the Modem World. 147 

limes now contained nearly twenty thousand, 
many of them having been brought in by outside 
students. 

When the evening came for the next lecture the 
church was crowded. The subject was “Truth 
and History/’ and he handled the theme in a mas- 
terly manner. Throughout his entire discourse he 
followed as close to the border line of modern 
skepticism and materialism as was possible with- 
out arousing the prejudice of the people. He spoke 
of the difficulty which confronted the student of 
history when seeking to gain an accurate conception 
of what was true or false, and stated that certain 
historians who were either ignorant or prejudiced 
willfully distorted facts through some selfish mo- 
tive best known to themselves. 

“There are two classes of historians,” he said. 
“There is the theological historian, the one who 
searches into the past that the foundations of his 
church may be strengthened ; then there is the one 
who is guided by philosophy, who seeks truth for 
the love of knowledge alone and follows in the 
footsteps of facts no matter where they may lead. 
One seeks the truth for the love of truth, while 
the other seeks to hide the truth lest it should dis- 
prove some popular dogma in which he is in- 
terested. One is led by cold and indisputable 
facts, the other attempts to lead the facts so that 
they will appear to conform to his theology, no 
matter whether it be rational or not. 

“The philosophic historian has no written creed, 
no infallible rule to guide his footsteps. He fol- 
lows no beaten pathway of thought, and when 
across the dim vista of the past he catches glimpses 


148 Satan of the Modern World. 

of the truth, if they are supported by cold facts and 
undeniable logic, he accepts them as they are. If 
perchance they should shatter some idol he has 
fondly cherished, he cheerfully gathers up its 
broken fragments and buries them with all due 
honor in a lonely and unmarked grave in his 
heart, while in its place he sets up another image 
built on a firmer foundation — the solid rock of 
truth. 

“But how is it with the historian in whose heart 
the love of creed is greater than love of a deep and 
impartial search for truth? Can we say as much 
for him ? When facts point to the birth of Zoroas- 
ter as being thousands of years before Christ, find- 
ing that it does not agree with a popular chronol- 
ogy that is founded on tradition and taught by 
his creed, does he shatter the idol of his creed as 
does the philosopher? By no means. He simply 
changes the date of the Persian’s birth to a period 
that will give the strongest support to his creed, 
and this in utter disregard of what may or may 
not be the facts in the case. This is a grievous 
wrong ; a wrong purposely perpetrated on the world 
through purely selfish motives and with twofold 
purpose, that of exalting a dominant church and 
perplexing honest investigators. 

“They will say that it must be a mistake, but 
make no effort to prove it so more than to say 
that it does not agree with Genesis and conse- 
quently must be false. If Christianity is the one 
true faith as millions of people pretend to believe, 
it should not be necessary to suppress the truth 
concerning any other religion in order to prove 
it so. Those who seek the truth for the sake of 


Satan of the Modem World. 149 

truth alone are the only ones who are truly honest, 
the only ones who live true to their ideal, and the 
only ones whose opinions are worthy of serious 
consideration. Between the truth and what has 
sometimes passed for truth in ages past, there is a 
gulf as broad and deep as the universe itself. 

“And what is truth ? you ask. To me it is a rock 
in the great ocean of eternity against which the 
tides of time have ebbed and flowed for ages past. 
Superstition’s relentless waves have rolled over it, 
submerging it at times for centuries from the 
brain of man; but when the storms subsided and 
the waves became calm once more, it stood erect 
and immutable as it has ever stood throughout the 
ages. 

“But w r hat has passed for truth ? others may ask. 
Away back across the great ocean of time to that 
distant shore we call prehistoric, the true system 
of theology — or so it was then considered — was the 
most revolting of all forms of worship — serpent 
worship. Ages go by and in the meantime a new 
heresy is born. It is fostered by a few, it spreads 
and grows until it absorbs all other creeds; ser- 
pent worship is then numbered with the religions 
of the past and planet worship is hailed by the 
nations of earth as one of infallible truth. Cen- 
turies more roll silently past and another heresy 
is born. It is fostered, it spreads abroad and the 
worship of one God is recognized as the true theo- 
logical system of ancient Egypt, while planet wor- 
ship is numbered with the religions of the dead. 

“But ancient Egypt was too great to be satisfied 
with one lone deity. A few generations are laid 
in the tomb; we cast our eyes backward through 


150 Satan of the Modern World. 

the dim mists of time to the ancient world, and 
behold there a multitude of gods and goddesses. 
Monotheism, with the exception of the few wan- 
dering tribes of Israel, is a dead religion, and he 
who would be a faithful follower of the popular 
theology of his day must believe in a host of gods, 
the more the better for the welfare of his soul in 
a world to come. In Greece and Rome he who 
would believe the truth, must believe in a polythe- 
ism in its most corrupt and revolting form. In 
the midst of this mass of corrupt and revolting 
creeds and dogmas, came the birth of Christianity, 
the religion of the western world ; a religion that is 
considered by four hundred millions of people to be 
the only true system of theology. 

“So much for truth as founded on theology, but 
with truth as it is known to the philosopher, it 
is a different story. Wherever glimpses of it can 
be caught through the centuries that have passed, 
it has ever been the same. It was the same on the 
plains of Mesopotamia, where the Chaldeans car- 
ried their astronomical observations to a high state 
of perfection, as it is in modern science ; the same 
among the pyramids of Egypt as on the banks of 
the Ganges, where an ancient Indian philosopher 
ages ago solved the problem of the solar system, 
an event that marked the beginning of the long 
and bitter struggle between truth and error. 

“It was but a feeble beginning; the waves of 
superstition swept over the earth, engulfed it, and 
truth was lost to man for many ages until it reap- 
peared in Greece, only to survive a few generations 
then perish with Hypatia at Alexandria, a day 
which ended the struggle for the time being be- 


Satan of the Modern World. 151 

tween philosophy and bigotry and in which the 
latter so brutally and fiendishly triumphed. A 
few centuries more go by and it reappears in Mo- 
hammedan Spain, where it is fostered and nour- 
ished by the Moors and Jews. Amid the splendid 
and tolerant Moorish civilization it reaches one 
of the highest levels of any past age, only to perish 
after a few generations beneath the iron heel of 
fanaticism. 

“A few generations later its devotees worshipped 
at its shrine at the court of Bagdad, where one of 
its most noted patrons was the great Haroun A1 
Kaschid. From the fall of Bagdad until the 
Reformation we catch only occasional glimpses of 
it through the martyrs of the middle ages; but 
to-day the truth shines out abroad over the whole 
world and the fetters with which superstition has 
so long chained the brain of man are shattered and 
broken forever. 

“Never again will truth sink beneath the waves 
of superstition’s sea, and they who distort the facts 
of nature to give support to an irrational myth- 
ology are mentally and morally dishonest and un- 
worthy of credence. The day has come at last 
when the false historian is without honor, not only 
in his own land, but everywhere.” 

As Harry brought his lecture to a close and sat 
down a deep silence settled upon the audience 
which lasted for several minutes, then arousing 
from the depth of thought to which he had carried 
them they arose and filed silently out into the 
night. 

As he left the platform Virginia handed him a 
note from the Parson which informed him that 


i $2 Satan of the Modern World. 

his clerical friend was confined to his bed with 
sickness. An expression of sorrow came over his 
handsome face as he looked from the note to Vir- 
ginia. 

“Has he been ill long ?” he asked. 

“Two days,” was the answer. “I came from 
there directly to the church this evening and shall 
stop there again on my way home. He would be 
very glad to see you also, and if you have the time 
to spare I will take the liberty of asking you to call 
on him.” 

“I shall be most happy to do so, and will ac- 
company you there at once.” 

They found him sitting up in bed, but in a very 
weak condition. Virginia had promised to stop 
in on her way home and report the success of the 
lecture, and he was bundled up with quilts and pil- 
lows awaiting her coming. He was glad to find 
Harry with her and eagerly asked about the lec- 
ture. 

Harry laughed, said the house was full and 
modestly admitted that financially it had been a 
great success. Not considering this a very satis- 
factory report the Parson then asked Virginia for 
her opinion. 

“Do you remember what you thought of the 
lecture on Egypt?” she asked, her dark eyes blaz- 
ing with enthusiasm, “the best I can say is that 
it surpassed even that.” 

The old man’s eyes filled with tears and his 
voice was husky as he clasped Harry’s hands in 
his and said: “If all the young men of our land 
made as good use of their talents as you, this 
would be a beautiful world indeed.” 


Satan of the Modern World. 153 

A tear glistened in Harry’s eyes for an instant, 
but when he spoke there was a happy and cheer- 
ful ring to his voice. “I suppose then there will 
be no service at the church to-morrow ?” he said. 

“Yes,” said the Parson, “they have invited Mr. 
Thompson to take my place for the day. What! 
Are you going already, Virginia? Well, come in 
to-morrow after the sermon. Of course you will 
attend church, Harry?” 

“Most assuredly,” was the answer, as he bade 
him “good-night” and walked out into the evening 
air happy beyond the power of thought to express. 


154 Satan of the Modern World. 


CHAPTER X. 

A VAMPIRE FROM THE PAST. 

Let us now for a moment drop Harry Brown 
and Virginia Randolph from our minds and take 
up the thread of Isaac Thompson’s life and see 
how it fared with him while Harry was meeting 
with success on every hand and daily becoming 
more popular. 

We have seen Isaac come back to the village 
at the close of his college career, proud and boast- 
ful of his accomplishments, his narrow, bigoted 
and envious mind overflowing with vanity, conceit, 
ambition and egotism. As we have had occasion 
to remark before, he was willing to take a few 
weeks’ rest before he entered on the great career 
which was opening up before him and beginning 
to labor in the Master’s vineyard, though he 
doubted not that he would have an early call which 
would not only be worthy the acceptance of a man 
of his ability, but would prove highly profitable 
as well and place him forever above the necessity 
of hard labor, for which he had a very marked 
aversion. 

It was this aversion to hard work which more 
than anything else had influenced the Deacon in 
preparing him for the ministry, and so certain was 


Satan of the Modem World. 155 

he that it was the only life that would prove ac- 
ceptable to a worthless son, that he had mortgaged 
his farm and worked early and late to pay the ex- 
penses of a college career. 

Thus it was that through the grace of God (as 
the Deacon often averred) we behold young Isaac 
transformed from a common village loafer into a 
minister of God that was to be. Yet somehow 
in spite of his extraordinary talents, his profound 
learning and culture, as he boastfully termed it, 
in spite of his fame as an orator with a fifty dollar 
cash prize to back it up, the remunerative parish 
failed to put in its appearance. 

Every day he would walk to the village post 
office and expectantly ask if there were any letters 
for “the Rev. Isaac Thompson,” but as often as 
the Rev. Isaac asked, just so often did he return 
home disappointed. The days of the long, golden 
summer glided swiftly by, but no call, no long 
looked for letters came to cheer the heart of the 
waiting one. At home on the farm his father and 
the hired man toiled early and late under the fierce 
rays of a J uly sun in the fields of grain, but Isaac, 
the “chosen of God,” the one called to preach, or 
“the fatted calf,” as his neighbors rudely and more 
truthfully called him, scorned all work and idled 
his time away, waiting, watching and praying for 
the “fat job” that never came. 

Two long, weary months of waiting pass by, 
still he haunts the post office and still his errands 
are as fruitless as of yore. A great change is now 
gradually taking place in his demeanor. He no 4 
longer walks the earth with the hopeful, buoyant - 
step so characteristic of youth, and the haughty, 


156 Satan of the Modern World. 

boastful expression of his face has given place to 
one of moodiness and taciturnity. 

His life is now one of bitterness, and disap- 
pointments are coming thick and fast. At first 
the village people had admired him and looked 
up to him as one of a superior mould, but their ad- 
miration soon ceased when he made them the ob- 
jects of his scorn and ridicule; for even the most 
stupid will at length turn in anger when the stub- 
born fact of their ignorance is being continually 
and maliciously flaunted in their faces by one who 
does it simply to magnify his own glory. 

Still a certain amount of respect remained, for 
there were some who thought that having been 
educated for the ministry, perhaps in reality he 
was better than they. There was still another in- 
fluence at work in their midst which caused con- 
siderable thought and finally placed him before 
the world in the true light of his mean, selfish 
nature. What little respect they had cherished for 
him in their hearts, hoping that time might yet 
prove them mistaken, died out as had their ad- 
miration and love, and henceforth scarcely any 
notice was taken of him except to avoid him. 

This influence which awoke them to a realiza- 
tion of the true worth of man was none other 
than the example set before them by the noble and 
self-sacrificing young owner of Maple Lawn. In 
him they saw a man of great mental and moral 
honesty, refinement and culture — an intellectual 
giant, who, notwithstanding his talents, position 
and wealth was as modest as a woman and gentle 
and courteous to the most humble of his fellow- 
men. 


Satan of the Modern World. 157 

He had founded an institution of learning in 
their midst such as they had never known before ; 
he had wealth sufficient to relieve him forever from 
the necessity of work, yet often while the Rev. 
Isaac was idling his time away dozing in the shade 
at home or loafing around the village forecasting 
his wonderful career, they had seen Harry wear- 
ing a broad-brimmed hat and with the sweat drip- 
ping from his noble brow toiling out in the fields 
with Fung and Jim. 

With the evidence of these indisputable facts 
continually before their eyes the villagers soon 
became so disgusted with “Ike” that whenever he 
began telling of his “future” they began to ridi- 
cule him, and at length ignore him pntirely, walk- 
ing rudely away and leaving him standing alone 
whenever he attempted to speak. As he walked 
along the village streets the people no longer 
greeted him with outstretched hands, pleasant 
smiles and words of encouragement as of old, but 
instead he walked sullen and alone, an object of 
scorn and derision from all he met. 

He met his first serious rebuke in the post office 
one day from the venerable white-haired Henry 
Lacy. “When are you going to begin preaching, 
Ike ?” he asked, as he found that individual sitting 
on a dry goods box in a rather sullen mood. 

“Oh, before long, I expect,” was the reply, and 
then he started in to tell all about what he was 
going to do “just as soon as he got started once.” 

The old man listened long and patiently until 
he had explained the matter fully and to his own 
satisfaction, then answered scornfully : 

“Well, Ike, that may be what you are going to 


158 Satan of the Modern World. 

do, but I can tell you in a very few words what 
you ought to be doing. You ought to be at home 
working in the oat field and helping pay off the 
mortgage that was put on the place in order to 
send you to college instead of loafing around here 
bragging about what you are going to do. 

“If you only lived in a world where bragging 
was the secret of success, you would be a wonder- 
fully successful man, Ike; but as you are not, I 
am afraid if it were not for your father you would 
starve to death before your call came. I passed 
by there yesterday and saw him out in the hot sun 
working like a ‘nigger’ while you were lying under 
a shade tree half asleep. I also saw Harry Brown 
out in the field setting up bundles, and I am sure 
if you only knew half what he does, you’d be 
preaching in one of the largest churches in Ver- 
mont instead of loafing around the village telling 
us what you are going to do.” 

“Yes, you people are all in love with that infer- 
nal infidel,” he muttered as he strode away in a 
rage. As he came out into the street he saw the 
tall, graceful form of Virginia Randolph as she 
came from the minister’s house and walked slowly 
and thoughtfully towards home. For a moment 
he stopped and gazed pensively at her as though 
pondering over some difficult and perplexing prob- 
lem, then a sudden determination came into his 
head to overtake her and ask her hand in mar- 
riage. With all his conceit he could scarcely flat- 
ter himself into the belief that she cared anything 
for him or would accept him, yet on a sudden 
impulse he resolved to do it “just for fun.” 

Acting on the spur of the moment he walked 


Satan of the Modem World. 159 

swiftly along and soon overtook Virginia. She 
did not seem at all pleased to see him, though she 
returned his greeting in a civil and respectful 
manner. That his company was unwelcome he 
did not appear to notice, and probably he did not, 
as his mind was too busily occupied in thinking 
of what a change for the better his fortunes would 
take were she but to accept him. 

To ask her to marry him was an easy thing to 
think of but a different thing to act upon, as she 
answered his few remarks in a chilling manner 
which gave him but little encouragement to pro- 
ceed. Nevertheless he continued by her side, in 
silence most of the way; yet making some casual 
remark occasionally concerning their childhood 
days in hopes of a favorable opportunity of telling 
her that which was uppermost in his mind. None 
came, however, and when she had reached the gate, 
opened it and passed in without extending to him 
an invitation to follow, he was compelled to say 
in plain words without any more veiled hints or 
beating about the bush that there was something 
on his mind of which he wished to speak and he 
would therefore be compelled to detain her for 
a moment! 

With flowery words and many impressive ges- 
tures he then told her of the great love that had 
burned in his heart for her from their earliest 
childhood, and of the many, many times when 
away at college he had thought of her and longed 
for just one glimpse of her fair face; how dear 
she had become to him of late and now that he 
was about to reach the goal of his ambition, he 


160 Satan of the Modem World. 


wanted to do her the honor of asking her to be his 
wife. 

For several moments the maiden said not a 
word, bnt stood and looked at him with a long, 
steady, searching gaze in which scorn and amuse- 
ment were struggling for supremacy. She sin- 
cerely despised the man for his general worth- 
lessness and selfishness, and the rudeness with 
which he treated those whom he considered intel- 
lectually inferior to himself; yet she was highly 
diverted by his vanity and conceit. 

She knew him to be incapable of a pure, un- 
selfish love, and that his pretensions to such were 
all feigned, as were those of spiritual excellence. 

“All I can say to your proposal, Mr. Thomp- 
son/’ she said, at length, “is one simple word: 
No! Why? I do not consider that I am called 
upon to explain, and even though I were, silence 
would be more satisfactory, for to say the least 
it would be quite unflattering to you. I hope what 
has been said is sufficient.” 

A dark scowl came over his evil face and he re- 
torted in an angry tone: 

“Then I suppose you, like all the rest of this 
ignorant community, are in love with that infidel 
Brown.” 

Scorn and anger flashed from the maiden’s dark 
eyes as she answered quietly: 

“I am under no obligations to explain my posi- 
tion to you or any other, or make any defence of 
Mr. Brown, as he is abundantly able to take care 
of himself ; and is, I presume, not at all sensitive 
to such criticism as you are capable of ; I will, how- 
ever, say this much to his credit : I have never 


Satan of the Modern World. 161 


heard of his aged father working from sunrise to 
sunset while he idled his time away doing nothing, 
as you are.” 

“Well, the whole durn community is against 
me anyway and I don’t care a rap for any of them, 
not even you,” he growled. “I’ll be preaching yet 
in a church that’s too darned high toned for any 
of you; then, perhaps, you’ll be only too glad to 
have me notice you,” and turning on his heel he 
went away cursing Harry Brown under his breath 
as the one to blame for all his troubles. 

Another month glided by. The man of God 
still waited, watched and prayed and wore out his 
last pair of Sunday shoes walking to and from the 
village, and still the letter opening the door to 
fame had not arrived, and the “fat job” seemed as 
far away as ever. 

Sorrow had indeed left its mark upon his brow. 
In despair he wrote to the president of the college 
from which he had graduated, asking if he could 
not help him in some way. His ambition was cool- 
ing now, and “almost any old thing would do to 
begin with,” he said, “from which he could rise 
in time as his talents became recognized, as they 
surely would could he only get started once.” The 
answer came after a long and aggravating delay, 
but its meaning was vague and unsatisfactory. It 
admitted that there were a few vacant parishes 
but gave him no satisfaction as to helping him ob- 
tain one. This was another serious blow at the 
foundations of his fairy castle and a bitter pill to 
swallow. 

“They, too, had turned against him,” he thought. 

But what to him was the hardest blow of all 


i6z Satan of the Modern World. 


and filled his heart with envy and hatred, was 
the growing popularity of Harry Brown and the 
success which attended his every undertaking. 
Where formerly he had scoffed at him and his ideas 
to willing and sympathetic listeners, he could now 
no longer revile him in the presence of another 
without being openly rebuked and subjected to the 
most harsh and bitter criticism. 

It was not that he had any cause to be envious, 
for Harry had never at any time or place treated 
him slightingly, but young Thompson’s mind was 
too narrow and bigoted to comprehend the fact 
that his popularity was due entirely to his own 
efforts, his kind and generous nature and the cour- 
tesy with which he treated every one, irrespective 
of their station in life. 

Thus the summer passed away, and with each 
succeeding day the Rev. Isaac grew more morose, 
envious and revengeful. When the new school 
was’ opened he was offered a position as teacher 
in one of the higher grades, but he refused with 
scornful indignation, saying that he had been 
called to preach, and preach he would, even though 
he did have to wait a while before he could get 
a suitable place. When told that it was a good 
position, especially for one who was unemployed, 
he magnanimously assured them that they need 
not worry about him, as he was “all right, you 
bet.” 

Taking into consideration the foregoing facts, it 
is not at all surprising that when the Sunday came 
on which the Parson was confined to his bed by 
sickness, Mr. Thompson had become so embittered 
by his own misfortune that he took advantage of 


Satan of the Modern World. 163 

the opportunity to vent his spleen and avenge the 
imaginary wrongs under which he had suffered so 
long and patiently. 

When he ascended the pulpit that Sunday morn- 
ing — a Sunday ever memorable in the history of 
the village — malice and hatred were written upon 
his evil face. 

As usual, the church was crowded, not from any 
interest they had in the preacher or his sermon, 
but mainly from curiosity, to witness a display 
of the preacher’s extraordinary oratorical powers 
of which they had heard so much. 

He had chosen for his text an old familiar one 
— one which had been chosen before on a multi- 
tude of similar occasions, and with the same ob- 
ject in view, that of slandering and insulting an 
honest man : viz., “The fool hath said in his heart 
there is no God.” The discourse was a long, aimless, 
rambling arraignment of infidels in general, and, 
it is unnecessary to add, one in particular. He used 
the same arguments that have been made for cen- 
turies to prove the existence of God, Bible author- 
ity, quoting many passages from it, to which he 
added a few senseless and unmeaning references 
of his own. 

“Of what value,” he shrieked fanatically, “is 
this life if the grave ends all? Of what account 
are a few short years of misery in a dreary sin- 
cursed world like this, if in the end you have to 
die like a dog? No one but an infidel, no one 
but a fool — and God says that an infidel is a fool 
— can believe such nonsense as that.” 

He then spoke of the persecution of Galileo and 
Bruno and others who had been made homeless 


164 Satan of the Modem World. 

wanderers through the hatred and intolerance of 
the church. “It served them right/’ he shrieked 
again, “they ought to have been burned at the 
stake, put behind prison bars, and made to become 
wandering Jews. They had no business to inter- 
fere with God’s way of running the world. 

“And let me tell you, too, 0 ye people of Verne ; 
listen to the voice of the prophet whom God has 
sent among you to warn you of your danger, for 
there is one here in your midst who ought to be 
served as they served them in the long ago when 
they meddled in church affairs. Again I warn 
ye, 0 ye people,” he said, with a great flourish of 
arms and the assumed expression of a saint, “that 
there is an enemy of the church in your midst. 
There’s a wolf among the lambs of God, and under 
the guise of philanthropy he’s trying to lead you 
away from your fathers’ God that he may destroy 
you, body and soul. You’ve honored him and cast 
the man of God out from your midst, even as they 
did in the days of the prophets of old. That’s 
what he’s got the swell head about. He’s send- 
ing his own soul down to hell just as fast as the 
wheels of time can roll him along, and not content 
with that, he wants to drag the whole community 
along with him. 

“You’ve fawned on him and flattered him until 
he’s got the big head, that’s what’s the matter 
with him. Again I warn you, beware of him. 
Shun him as you would a snake. Shut down on 
him, and his infidelity, or before you are aware 
of it, the wrath of God will descend on this place, 
even as it did on Sodom and Gomorrah.” 

At length the wild and discordant harangue 


Satan of the Modern World. 165 

came to an end, the choir sang, and as the preacher 
arose to pronounce the benediction there was a 
look of triumph on his forbidding visage. For 
once in his life he had had the opportunity of re- 
lieving his heart of some of its animosity, and in 
his own mind at least he had “set square” for a 
few of the many indignities that had been heaped 
upon him. His heart swelled high with hope 
and pride, and for a moment he fancied himself 
to be the great preacher he had one day hoped to 
be. 

At the close of the service Harry met Virginia 
outside the door. Her face was very thoughtful, 
yet she looked up with a sad smile and asked, 
“What did you think of the sermon?” 

“All that I can say,” he answered, with a cold, 
hard glitter in his eyes, “is that I am neither sur- 
prised nor disappointed. It is just about such 
a lot of Billingsgate as I had expected to hear !” 

Just then the Judge came out, and he, too, was 
looking serious and thoughtful. 

“Well, Harry,” he said, as he saw them to- 
gether, “won’t you come home with us to dinner ?” 

Harry accepted, and was thanking him for the 
invitation when Virginia spoke up, saying: 

“I am going by the way of Mr. Thornwaite’s, 
and if you do not prefer papa’s company to mine, 
Mr. Brown, I would like to have you accompany 
me, as he was so glad to see you last evening, and 
would probably appreciate another visit.” 

“I shall be most happy to do so,” he answered, 
with a laugh. “That is, if you are not afraid of 
being devoured by one of the ‘wolves.’ And as for 
Mr. Thornwaite, strange as it may appear, I have 


1 66 Satan of the Modern World. 


taken quite a fancy to him, which appears to be 
mutual, for we are great friends, indeed.” 

And so in fact they were. The Parson had 
often called at his home, spending hours at a time 
in the library, where Harry sometimes found him 
poring over some book with all the diligence of 
a school boy. One day in particular he came in 
and found him so deeply absorbed that it was 
necessary to call him the third time before he 
aroused from the depths of thought in which his 
mind was buried. The Parson had colored slightly 
as he saw who it was before him, appeared to be 
somewhat embarrassed, and kept the book he had 
been reading well hidden from sight. Harry’s 
curiosity was aroused at the strange conduct of his 
visitor, and a glance at the shelves was sufficient 
to tell him that the volume the Parson had been 
studying was Haeckel’s “History of Creation.” 

For some weeks past he had suspected that the 
Parson was beginning to experience a change of 
heart, and hoping that he might benefit him in an 
indirect way, had told him that if he saw anything 
among his books in which he became very much 
interested to take it home, and when the Parson 
started for home that day he noticed that the “His- 
tory of Creation” had gone with him. 

From that day forward a deep undercurrent of 
sympathy existed between them which grew 
stronger as the weeks and months passed by, 
though nothing was ever said of the causes which 
led to it. Consequently when the Parson was 
taken sick, Harry became a daily visitor, and much 
comfort seemed to be derived from his visits and 
the long conversations which took place between 


Satan of the Modem World. 167 

them. Rightly suspecting that the Parson’s fam- 
ily were none too well off financially, he took them 
daily large baskets of fruit and vegetables, such 
as the season afforded, and a large jug of rich, 
fresh milk. 

Sometimes they protested at his generosity; 
nevertheless, they accepted all that came, even to 
two loads of wood, all of which served to convince 
Harry that the Parson was under the pinch of 
poverty. 

From the dinner at the Judge’s house he ex- 
cused himself as soon as he could, for he wanted 
to be alone with his thoughts, alone that he might 
think over the rude and insulting words to which 
he had listened that day, of the insults that had 
been heaped upon him for no cause whatever ex- 
cept to avenge the imaginery wrongs of an en- 
vious and sordid mind. 

But, pshaw ! why should he care anyway ? It 
was but a prearranged affair to harass him, to 
blacken his name and destroy his reputation. It 
was not worth bothering about. The people of 
the village respected and esteemed him too highly 
to be influenced by the coarse epithets which had 
been hurled at him. 

Why should they? He had never cast a straw 
across the pathway of their lives, never caused 
them a moment’s pain or sorrow ; but, on the con- 
trary, he had labored in their behalf with unselfish 
devotion and doubted not that they fully appre- 
ciated his efforts. Ever looking upon the bright 
side of life, he dismissed it from his thoughts, and 
by the time he had reached home he was as happy 


i68 Satan of the Modern World. 


and free from care as when he had left in the 
morning, his heart beating high with hope. 

He forgot for the time being the dark cloud 
that was rising above the horizon of his life, but 
like the “Ghost of Banquo” it would rise again, 
and when evening came and the twilight shadows 
began to deepen around him the memory of those 
hateful words came back to him and his soul 
writhed in anger as he thought of the needless on- 
slaught that had been made on him. 

What would the village people think of the 
affair anyway? Would they, after all, allow them- 
selves to be caught in the great dragnet of fanati- 
cism that the upstart was attempting to spread 
around them? 

Would they be so ungrateful as to forget his 
many deeds of kindness? Ho; he could not be- 
lieve them capable of ingratitude so base. 

Thus far they had respected him for his true 
worth, and he had too much confidence in them 
to believe that they could be changed by the wild 
ravings of a disappointed demagogue, and yet . 

He began to doubt again. Religious prejudice 
was something easily aroused and no one knew 
better than he that when the blind followers of a 
popular creed begin to see, or fancy they see, the 
foundations of the church crumbling, in the blind- 
ness, ignorance and intolerance which are in- 
separable from a narrow religious training, they 
forget all favors and friendships of the past. 
He knew, too, that a man who believes in the evi- 
dence of faith would fight for his church when 
the honor of flag and native land appealed to him 
in vain. There would be a service in the church 


Satan of the Modem World. 169 

that evening and he wondered if the same wild 
discourse, the same rambling arrangement of 
quotations and epithets was going on as in the 
morning. 

If so, he would see for himself, and note the 
effect. Without a moment’s hesitation he went 
to the stable, saddled a horse and rode swiftly 
towards the village. Half an hour later he stood 
in front of the church, and the sermon, if such 
it might be called, was well under way, and the 
preacher was going on at the same terrific pace 
which he had started in the morning. There 
seemed to be a considerable enthusiasm stirring 
among the congregation. Some one came up to 
the door, opened it and entered, leaving it slightly 
ajar, and through the opening he caught the words 
of the speaker and those few words decided him 
as to what his future course should be. “Where is 
the infidel now?” he heard the orator shriek in a 
wild, hoarse voice that could have been heard 
blocks away and seemed to startle even the calm- 
ness of the evening air. “He is not here to-night ! 
Why? It’s too hot for him here, that’s why. He 
dassent come here now that a true man of God has 
been called to preach to you. I defy him to come 
here and meet me in debate, here or elsewhere, at 
any time or place. But he won’t do it. He’s 
afraid to do it. He’s afraid to meet a man of my 
ability and learning.” 

Harry laughed softly and turned his horse’s 
head towards home. 

“Make the most of your time, Isaac,” he said, 
aloud, “for it is short indeed. Pride has caused 


170 Satan of the Modern World. 

the downfall of nations, and so shall it be the cause 
of yours.” 

All through the lonely hours of that night he 
sat before the fireplace in the library buried in 
deep thought, but when he entered the dining- 
room the following morning he looked cheerful 
and happy, and there was nothing about his ap- 
pearance which would indicate that within the 
past few hours he had passed through the one 
great crisis of his life. His heart seemed joyous, 
and no one would have suspected that he saw a 
dark cloud gathering around him in which all 
his hopes of happiness were shrouded in darkness 
and gloom. 

But he saw it all, and knew full well its por- 
tent. He saw, too, means of escaping the direful 
consequences which might follow, means which 
few would have refused when face to face with an 
ordeal such as confronted him; yet he scorned 
them as he would a serpent, and boldly faced the 
issue with no thought or care for what the final 
outcome might be so long as honor and manhood 
remained untarnished. 

When breakfast was over he walked down to the 
village, and on the inside of the library door 
tacked a small notice, and in the post office near 
the delivery window another, so that all who came 
in could read the short and tersely written notice 
which stated that, “on the following Saturday af- 
ternoon at four o’clock, from the high school 
steps, Harry Brown would address the people of 
the village and vicinity, stating his views on the 
Bible and Immortality, and his reasons for such 
views as he may hold which conflict with popular 
theology.” 


Satan of the Modem World. 171 


CHAPTER XI. 

A NOBLE SACRIFICE FOR TRUTH. 

It was a brief announcement, simply worded, 
yet it was of sufficient importance to cause consid- 
erable excitement and not a little consternation 
among the villagers. Speculation was rife as to 
what would be said and done on that occasion, 
what the possible outcome of the affair would 
be, which had been fanned into a flame in their 
midst. 

Every one seemed to view the situation from the 
standpoint of his mental and spiritual light. Many 
of those, who but a few days before had been 
loudest in their praise of Harry Brown, ridiculing 
young Thompson at the same time and indulging 
in all manner of harsh criticism concerning his 
general worthlessness, had now flopped completely 
over to the other side, and were strongly in- 
trenched with him against the “man of sin.” This 
class, however, was restricted to the older people 
of the community, the younger ones, as a rule, 
standing firm in their allegiance to their bene- 
factor, the bombast of the boasted “man of God” 
having no influence over them other than to fill 
their minds with disgust. That the philanthropist 
did not believe the same as they or repeat the same 


172 Satan of the Modern World. 

religious formula, was, in their opinion, not at 
all detrimental to him; a difference of honest 
opinion, nothing more or less. They respected 
and honored him the same. They judged him 
only by his daily life and work, and in the fruits 
of his labors they saw only that which was good. 

It is a matter of regret that this class did not 
include the whole society of the community, but it 
did not. Men were then as savage as when, in 
mediaeval days, prejudice and passion dominated 
the souls of man and crimes of inconceivable 
cruelty were committed in the name of Him who 
proclaimed “Peace on earth, good will to men.” 
They accepted the charity of purse and heart and 
brain so bounteously given, but when through 
envy and malice some malcontent raised the cry 
of “heretic” past favors were forgotten, ties of 
friendship were all severed, the smouldering fires 
of persecution were fanned into flame and burned 
as brightly as in the days of Cyril, Calvin and 
Thomas de Torquemada. With them it was the 
same as when the cry of “Hep” was raised among 
the cities of the Ehine against the downtrodden 
race of Israel — they cared not whether the out- 
burst of fanaticism was founded on truth and 
justice so long as it was raised by a dominant 
church against a weaker sect and in the name of 
a merciful God. 

There were a few others who deplored the sad 
state of affairs which had come to pass in the 
social life of the village, and saw the blatant dema- 
gogue in his true light, that he was at best a dis- 
turbing element, willfully and maliciously dis- 
turbing the serene and peaceful spirit of the com- 


Satan of the Modem World. 173 

munity simply to avenge an imaginary wrong 
which his disordered brain fancied had been in- 
flicted on him by one whose career had been more 
successful than his own. Those few were Harry’s 
nearest and dearest friends, those who were deeply 
interested in his welfare, and were willing to make 
any honorable sacrifice that he might be spared 
the trying ordeal through which he was determined 
to pass. 

The day following that on which he posted the 
placards, notifying the public of his intentions, he 
had called on the minister, who, in the long con- 
versation which followed, made an earenst effort 
to convince him of the folly of heeding, or an- 
swering in any way the vile attack that had been 
made on him, saying that the people, for the 
greater part, fully appreciated his efforts to do 
good, and cared nothing at all for the religious 
views he might hold. As for those who for a few 
weeks might antagonize him, he said, they would 
soon come to see the error of their ways, and in 
years to come his name would be spoken by all 
with kind and loving lips, when that of the tra- 
ducer was erased from the memory of man. 

But the effort, sincere and earnest though it 
was, was put forth in vain. Harry shook his 
head with a kindly smile, thanked him for the in- 
terest he had taken in his welfare, but what he 
asked, he assured him, could never be. 

The following day he received a note from Vir- 
ginia which came nearer swerving him from his 
course than any other influence could have done; 
but this having failed to accomplish its purpose, 
the Judge called on him and used all the powers 


174 Satan of the Modem World. 

of persuasion at his command, hut his errand was 
also a fruitless one. And so matters stood when 
the afternoon came on which he had announced 
that he would address the public from the high 
school steps. The village had worked itself into 
a frenzy of excitement, curiosity was rife, and 
anxiety was manifest on the faces of many. As 
the hour approached the people began to gather 
in large numbers in front of the building. At 
half-past three the school ground was filled to 
overflowing, and still a great sea of humanity 
flowed in from all directions; and when Harry 
drove up at exactly four o’clock the surging and 
swaying mass of humanity had spread out to the 
opposite side of the street. As he pushed his way 
through the vast throng, followed by the devoted 
Fung Wung, he heard the harsh, boastful voice of 
the Deacon saying : “There goes the blamed infidel 
now. He’d better be careful what he’s sayin’, too, 
fer Ike’s up in front layin’ fer ’im ; and he’s jest 
waitin’ fer a chance to wind him up, Ike is.” 

A smile flitted across his face as he heard the 
remark, but he paid no attention to it, for the 
time was at hand on which he had determined to 
give Mr. Ike his just dues should he interfere. 
He forced his way through the crowd at length, 
ascended the steps and stood upon the platform, 
then after handing his hat to the Oriental, who 
had seated himself cross-legged and was comfort- 
ably leaning against the building, he turned and 
gazed silently out over the great sea of faces with 
calmness and serenity. Judging from the multi- 
tude of people who stood before him he knew they 
must have come from every direction for miles 


Satan of the Modern World. 175 

around. Yes, and there were a large number over 
from the Falls, too, for there was an entire class 
from the high school at that place before whom 
he had lectured but a few weeks before. They 
smiled as his eyes fell upon them and waved a 
greeting. 

To the left of him, and only a few feet away 
were standing the Judge, his wife and Virginia. 
On the stern face of the J udge rested an expression 
that was hard to define. Gentle, white-haired 
Mrs. Randolph returned his greeting with a sunny 
smile, while from the depths of her soft dark eyes 
came the glimmer of gathering tears. Virginia, 
as their eyes met, bowed and smiled, but the smile 
faded from her face as quickly as it came, leaving 
an expression there cold and proud and stern. 
The soft, dreamy expression so oft seen in her 
eyes had vanished, and now they blazed forth 
scorn and defiance for the opinions of the world 
such as her proud and fearless nature was capable 
of, yet they told a tale of undying love for the 
fearless man before her. 

For fully two minutes he stood there calmly and 
silently surveying the hushed and almost breath- 
less throng, when suddenly his eyes rested on the 
object of his search, the Reverend Isaac Thomp- 
son, standing directly in front of him, and only 
a few feet away. A scornful smile passed over 
his face as his eyes met those of his foe. Then he 
spoke, and the tones of his voice rang out, deep, 
clear and musical as a bugle call to the farthest 
limits of that throng. 

“A few nights ago/’ he said, “just as twilight 
was shedding its last rays on yonder mountain 


176 Satan of the Modem World. 

top, I stood in front of the village church, and 
through the door, slightly ajar, I heard the wild 
and rabid discourse of a young theological upstart, 
who, from its pulpit, was making his debut into 
the vineyard of Christ as a helper and teacher of 
mankind. Out into the stillness of the night as I 
stood there, disturbing the peaceful serenity of na- 
ture, came these wild words — and they were no 
wilder than the fanatic who gave them utterance : 
‘Where is the infidel now? He is not here to- 
night. Why? Because it is too hot for him, 
that’s why! I defy him to meet me in debate; 
but he won’t do it ; he’s afraid to.’ 

“Such were the words of the mighty boaster, 
the man of God, self-styled. If it is true that 
such as he is a true man of God, I wonder what a 
man of the Devil must be ! But that is irrelevant. 
Why, you may ask, did I not go in and meet this 
intellectual prodigy in debate? Was it because I 
feared him? Was it that I feared he would con- 
quer me in an intellectual struggle that I did 
not go in and meet this man of God ? 

“No ! I will tell you why I did not go inside the 
church and debate with him. It is because the 
Church of Christ has nothing to do with me, nor 
I with it. There is nothing in common between us, 
therefore it is no place in which for me to meet 
and debate with its devotees. I respect those who 
belong there, for whosoever is sincere in their be- 
lief is entitled to the respect and consideration of 
all, no matter what that belief may be. But when 
the church ceases to respect me, then I must seek 
society and friends in other places. Those who 
erect and support houses of worship have a right 


Satan of the Modem World. 177 

to assemble therein, to say what they please, to 
believe as they please and to worship as many gods 
as they please, and no man has, or ought to have, 
the right to deny them that privilege. If any man 
objects to what is said and done therein, the world 
outside is wide and there he can roam at will. 

“So much, then, for the rights of the church- 
man, but within the walls of the church the unbe- 
liever has no rights that are bound to be respected. 
If he has aught to say in that respect he must air 
his views in other places. The invitation to come 
inside was extended, yet, strange to say, I do not 
feel grateful for it. Far from being so, I regard 
it as an open insult and equivalent to saying: 
‘Come into my house and create a disturbance that 
I may be justified in kicking you out/ Generous 
man. Had I entered and made but a feeble pro- 
test the Christian world would have been shocked 
at the audacity of an infidel who dared interrupt a 
divine service, and press and pulpit would have 
united in hurling their anathemas at my head. 

“But there are other reasons for my staying 
away from the church and holding my peace. The 
church, as an institution, is too small for me. Its 
walls are not large enough to hold my creed, its 
dogmas not broad enough to contain my thought. 
The great world, with its broad blue canopy of 
heaven above for a roof, and its floor carpeted with 
the green and verdant beauties of nature is my 
cathedral. Large as it is, it is yet none too large, 
for my creed extends to the limits of the universe 
and within its folds embraces men of all races, 
creeds and colors. It is a broad creed, yet it can 
be stated in two words: Human Brotherhood; 


1 78 Satan of the Modem World. 

and if you would know from whom I learned it, 
it gives me pleasure to inform you that it was 
from him who said: ‘The world is my country, 
to do good is my religion/ 

“That, my friends, is why I refused to go into 
your church and meet, in debate, the boastful and 
blatant man of God. Now, for the benefit of 
those who came here to-day to hear an honest man 
express an honest opinion, let me say once for all 
that I shall not be careful as to what I say, neither 
shall I tolerate interruption from anyone. The 
free and open sunlight of heaven is as much mine 
as another’s and no one shall deny me the right to 
a share. As for this particular pious individual 
who has sought to accomplish my ruin, to him I 
say, ‘Halt V ” 

A ripple of excitement swept over the throng 
as the echoes of his fearless tones died away, which 
was followed by a commotion up in front, caused 
by young Thompson, who, deaf to the warning 
uttered, was making his way towards the platform, 
gesticulating wildly and asking in loud, defiant 
tones for “Just one chance to meet the infidel in 
debate/’ 

Scorn and curiosity struggled for the mastery as 
Harry listened to the ravings of the fanatic, then 
the lines of his mouth became firmly drawn, his 
eyes flashed with a cold, steely glitter, and when he 
spoke again there was a hard, metallic ring to his 
voice which boded no good to his aggressive antag- 
onist. 

“It is well,” he said, after a long pause. “I 
warned you, but you heeded it not. ‘Pride goeth 
before a fall/ It is a stumbling block in your 


Satan of the Modem World. 179 

path. It has led great nations on to their down- 
fall ; great statesmen have submitted to its wiles ; 
and why should it not lead you on to destruction ? 
Once more and for the last time I warn you; will 
you — for the sake of the future which may yet 
open up before you — heed it ere it is too late ? No ? 
So be it then.” 

He drew from his pocket a small book and a 
copy of a daily paper, then turning to the people 
before him, said: 

“I am going to read to you a few words which 
were written by one of our Revolutionary sires, 
the immortal Thomas Paine. It is not that I 
desire to convert you to his philosophy of life — 
although it is a very good one — but simply to 
make a comparison which will convince you that 
other than infidels draw their inspiration from his 
works. ‘Would you know God?’ he asks, ‘Behold 
Him, then, in the creation He has made/ From 
the paper in my hand I read, and the opening 
paragraph begins with precisely the same words 
below, and all through the columns of this paper 
are found some of the most beautiful paragraphs 
ever written on the goodness and mercy of God 
and turning to Paine’s oration, delivered before 
the Society of Theo-Philanthropists in Paris a 
hundred years ago, I find precisely the same para- 
graphs, word for word. So it is throughout the 
entire essay printed here, from beginning to end. 
Nine sentences of everv ten, with scarcely a 
change of word, have been copied from the writ- 
ings of Thomas Paine and carefully arranged into 
an essay of incomparable beauty. Are there any 
here over whom, as Edward Hyde asks, ‘the greed 


180 Satan of the Modern World. 


of curiosity has so great a command’ that they 
would care to know what and by whom is this 
essay from which I have been reading? I will 
tell you what it is. It is a complete text of the 
graduating oration of the Reverend Isaac Thomp- 
son, the one with which he won the fifty dollars in 
gold, and was, as I have already made plain to you, 
stolen bodily from the writings of an infidel upon 
whose head the church has called down the vilest 
of anathemas for over a century. It is one of the 
boldest and damnable frauds ever imposed on 
society, and there, ladies and gentlemen, stands 
the man who is guilty of it ; the man of God who 
defied the infidel to meet him in debate, the marvel 
of intellect who came here for the express pur- 
pose of ‘winding me up if I was not careful what 
I said !’ ” 

“It’s a damned lie; ain’t it, Ike?” shrieked the 
Deacon, his voice hoarse with passion. 

“Yes, ’tis !” said Ike, his face black with rage 
and resentment. 

A smile of triumph lit up the face of the speaker 
at the vile epithet, and, drawing a letter from his 
pocket, he said with mock gravity : 

“Perhaps this is, too, and to make certain that 
you are not being maligned, you may, if you wish, 
examine the handwriting, for I have no doubt that 
you are familiar with it;” and he handed the 
letter to the Reverend Ike, which, however, he dis- 
dained to notice. 

“This letter,” continued Harry, turning to the 
crowd again, “is from the president of the college 
from which our meek and lowly friend here 
graduated, and will, I have no doubt, prove highly 


Satan of the Modem World. 1 8 1 


interesting to all. Prompted by curiosity a few 
months ago, I wrote to Boston and obtained a copy 
of the oration for which the prize was given, and, 
to say the least, the boldness of the deception 
almost staggered my faith in humanity. There, 
of course, I should have let the matter drop, but I 
had a curiosity to learn if the professors were 
really so stupid as to fail to perceive the impos- 
ture. Accordingly I wrote to the president of the 
college, and here is the reply : 

“ ‘Sir : In reply to your enquiry, will state that 
the matter to which you refer has caused us much 
annoyance and chagrin. Of course, I saw through 
the fraud, also that the awarding of the prizes 
was not according to the respective merits of the 
contestants ; yet the position in which I was placed 
at that moment was so embarrassing that it was 
practically impossible for me to do otherwise than 
I did. The judges who awarded the prizes were 
instructed to give them according to the merit of 
the essay from a literary standpoint, and evidently 
they failed to see through the fraud that the one 
in question was an entire plagarism. As for me, 
standing there in the midst of an enthusiastic 
multitude, what could I do? I could not very 
well mar the enjoyment and festivities of the 
occasion by a public exposure, therefore you will 
understand why the matter was kept as quiet as 
possible/ 

“Such, my friends, are the infamous methods 
and character of the man who has maliciously at- 
tempted to ruin me and drag his fellow towns- 
people down to his own degraded level. Such 


1 82 Satan of the Modem World. 


is the man who, in boastful and defiant tones, de- 
fied the infidel to meet him in debate, and if what 
has been said here to-day is not to his liking, or 
what he expected to hear, bear in mind the fault 
was his, not mine, for I warned him repeatedly, 
even after I had abundant reason to glory in his 
downfall/’ 

The silence in a lonely graveyard was never 
more intense than that which followed this an- 
nouncement. The people stood with bated breath, 
mute tongues, too stunned even to think. Never 
before in the history of the village of Verne had 
there been an episode as exciting as this. Young 
Thompson was still standing there, but the con- 
fident expression of his face had vanished just as 
had his hopes of future greatness, and a more 
shamefaced and crest-fallen individual could not 
be imagined. Slowly he began to realize that 
his last hope had vanished and the foundations 
of his castle washed away. The eyes of his neigh- 
bors wandered in his direction, a crowd of giddy 
girls giggled, then the people began to murmur 
against him, and all he had hoped for he would 
now give were it possible for the earth to open 
and swallow him. But as the earth was not par- 
ticularly obliging that day he was forced to look 
about for other means of escape. As much as 
Harry detested the man a spark of pity kindled 
in his breast at the crushed appearance of the 
reverend gentleman, and all the bitterness died 
out of his heart more suddenly than ever it came 
there. 

“Come, Thompson,” he said in a kindly tone, 
“cheer up and start life over again. You have 


Satan of the Modern World. 183 

made some mistakes in the past; but profit by 
them and yon will avoid another downfall in the 
future. You built your house upon the sands and 
then foolishly washed away your own foundations ; 
but try again, and if ever you need a friend the 
man you have tried to injure will be a friend to 
you when all others fail.” 

But Ike said never a word. The calamity which 
had fallen on him was too great for him to bear 
and he quietly sneaked away with the scoffs and 
jeers of the people ringing^n his ears. When at last 
he had disappeared from sight and the excitement 
subsided, Harry began to address the throng once 
more. 

“If,” said he, “the smouldering fires of perse- 
cution which have been kindled here had burned 
in but one breast, there would, remain now noth- 
ing more to be said. But such, I regret to say, has 
not been the case. Led on by a boastful and 
stupid theological demagogue, many of those who 
made great pretense of friendship for me in the 
past allowed their passions and prejudices to be 
aroused, and, forgetting all past favors and ties 
of friendship which bound our lives together in a 
common cause, like the demons of the middle 
ages, gloated over the opportunity which came to 
them to strike another blow at heresy. It is, 
therefore, to those, and I doubt not that there are 
many, that I take this opportunity of expressing 
an honest opinion and give to the world a few 
fragments of thought on natural law. Unlike my 
aggressive adversary of the prize essay fame, 1 
do not aspire to teach my fellowmen concerning 
things of which I myself know so little. I am not 


184 Satan of the Modern World. 

called upon, neither am I qualified to preach ; yet 
here in the open air of nature I can, at least, ex- 
press an honest thought, prove to the world that I 
am not the coward I have been accused of being, 
and sound a note of warning to those who would 
cast the dark blot on the closing days of the nine- 
teenth century — a closing century that has been 
the golden age of all history. In doing this I shall 
not follow the beaten path of others and endeavor 
to prove that the Bible is not the inspired word of 
God, for that has been done by master-minds of 
the past. Since the days of Paine and Voltaire the 
Bible has trod a thorny path, despite the efforts of 
Priestcraft to place it on a firm foundation and 
juggle the facts of nature so as to bear a certain 
semblance of conformity to supernatural absurd- 
ity. The efforts of the Church to defame the char- 
acter of these mighty masters of thought, and de- 
stroy their influence, have availed them nothing, 
for in our own day and generation we have seen 
those noble ideas resurrected from the past, em- 
bellished with new expressions and greater ideals, 
clothed with new and beautiful garments of words 
and given again to the world by the greatest ora- 
tor of all times. Over his mighty and silent dust 
we have but lately paid the tribute of our admira- 
tion and our tears, but tears can ne’er repay the 
debt we owe. In his search for truth he left no 
stone unturned, and, as he said of the immortal 
Lincoln, ‘He lived until there remained nothing 
for him to do so great as he had done.’ If there 
are any desiring Bible criticism they can derive 
more pleasure and profit from the study of his 
works than in listening to any words of mine; 


Satan of the Modern World. i8c; 

therefore to define my position clearly before the 
world as I have been called upon to do, it is suf- 
ficient for me to say that I do not believe the 
Bible to be the inspired word of God, or that there 
is any God but nature. Viewed from the stand- 
point of the theologian, the Bible is of all books 
the most worthless, the most senseless ; while from 
that of the philosopher it is one of the most valu- 
able of any that have come down to us from the 
past, for through it we catch glimpses of prehis- 
toric races — races that had reached the noonday 
period of life and greatness, and were old in civ- 
ilization and culture when the great Semitic race 
was but a wandering, pastoral people, scattered 
about in many tribes and clans. 

“So much, then, for the Bible and my humble 
opinion concerning it; but as for the statement 
made in church last Sunday to the effect that there 
must be a future life, as no God would create 
mankind for the pleasures and vanities of a few 
short years on sin-cursed planet, that brings me 
up to my subject, Natural Law. 

“Is God really the creator of every creature 
that walks the earth, of everything, in fact, that 
has existence, organic and inorganic? If so, why 
is there such an utter disregard of what is good 
or evil, useful and useless, necessary and unneces- 
sary in the creation He has made? Why this ex- 
travagant prodigality so manifest in every corner 
of the universe? Admitting as true that it was 
wisdom on His part to create animals whose flesh 
was good for food, and without which man in 
certain localities could barely exist, was it wise, 
was it merciful for a being of supreme wisdom to 


1 86 Satan of the Modern World. 


create and densely populate the earth with wild 
and savage races — cannibals who devour their fel- 
lowmen, venomous reptiles and ferocious beasts 
of prey that fill the forests, plains and jungles, 
making them thus unfit and unsafe as a dwelling 
place for man? You may insist that it was di- 
vine foresight to create that which is good and use- 
ful in the vegetable kingdom in sustaining the life 
of man, but was it not a waste of energy to create 
that which is not good, poisonous and noxious 
weeds and plants, and tares and thistles? You 
may, if you please, call it an evidence of divine 
wisdom and goodness, but to me all forms of veg- 
etable and animal life are the direct result of pre- 
existent conditions— the result of Law, natural, 
unchangeable, immutable, eternal. 

“In Central America a few years ago I stood 
above a mighty ruin, a ruin that was buried be- 
neath a forest, which at the time of the discov- 
ery of America, was supposed to have been prime- 
val. The few remnants of wall which were still 
standing upright were covered with a dense mass 
of moss and brambles, and so deeply buried was 
it that the aborigines who had made their homes 
and hunted in the forest above for centuries past 
knew not even of its existence — knew not that be- 
neath their very feet lay the crumbling ruins of a 
once great and opulent city. 

“How came that great and mighty city there? 
It was erected by the hand of men, and men who 
stood high up in the scale of civilization, for its 
walls were composed of great blocks of stone and 
covered with a multitude of inscriptions. 

“Who were the men, and to what race did they 


Satan of the Modern World. 187 

belong ? No one can tell. Their history has been 
lost in the dim mists of ages that have elapsed 
since as a race they perished from the earth, and 
all traces have been obliterated except a few blocks 
of silent stone. 

“What language did they speak? No one can 
tell. The inscriptions, mute, indecipherable and 
mysterious, defy the brain of man to wrest from 
them their secret. 

“Were they black, red, white or yellow? No 
one knows. The secret is locked within the lips 
of mystery, and there will, in all probability, re- 
main until the last block of stone has crumbled 
to dust. 

“Do you call such useless waste of energy, such 
reckless prodigality, an evidence of divine wis- 
dom? Do you call it the goodness and mercy of 
God to create great nations, endow them with suf- 
ficient learning and culture to make them capable 
of building stone cities of an area of several square 
miles, then obliterate them so completely from the 
earth that not even a trace of their history remains 
to tell posterity who and what they were? No; 
it is the work of law, cruel, relentless, inexorable 
law. 

“All over the wide world, go where you will, 
you will find the evidence confronting you that 
this same law is at work to-day. The evidence is 
everywhere, in every corner of the universe, remote 
and near. It is found on mountain top, in fertile 
valley, on seashore, in silvery stream, in waste 
land, in tangled forest. On every side we find the 
same waste of energy, the same extravagant prod- 
igality, and if you would behold it you have but 


1 88 Satan of the Modern World. 


to open your eyes and look around. You need not 
go to the ruins of Central America, to Nineveh, 
Babylon or Egypt to find the evidence that there is 
no God but nature, no law but nature’s law. It is 
found in yonder valley through which a silvery 
stream winds its way, eating into the banks and 
carrying the debris onward to the sea. On yonder 
noble mountain you can find the evidence that 
there is no God but nature. Climb up its steep sides 
after every rainfall and you will find a multitude 
of little gullies cut into its surface; and what 
story do they tell to the philosopher — the man 
who has learned to read the open page of the sim- 
ple book of nature? Simply that beating against 
the rocks and sands of time that mountain that 
stands to-day so calm, serene and beautiful 
against the morning sky will one day be leveled 
to the earth, and, instead of the beautiful moun- 
tain and valley scene of to-day, the scene that will 
greet the eye of man on some distant shore of time, 
a million years hence, it may be, will be a broad, 
rolling plateau with green and sunny slopes. Do 
you mean to tell me that transformations of such 
magnitude as that, transformations with no appar- 
ent design, and which are completed only after 
almost inconceivable periods of time, are the work 
of infinite wisdom ? No ; it is law, and law alone. 

“The evidence that there is no God is found in 
yonder forest. Standing there in its midst a few 
weeks ago my eyes rested on a little grass-covered 
mound. It was only a simple little affair, so 
simple, in fact that it would never have been no- 
ticed by a man passing with eyes shackled by faith 
and mind filled with thoughts and visions of an 


Satan of the Modern World. 189 

unseen world from the lofty plane on which he 
walked in his blindness and conceit. Yet I saw 
it, and it told to me a mournful tale, for it marked 
the grave of a once mighty king of nature. It 
was about six feet long by two wide, crescent 
shaped, oval on one side and hollowed on the other ; 
and here is the tale that little mound of earth told 
me that day : 

“One day there in autumn time, centuries ago, 
a little acorn fell and buried itself among the 
dead leaves and grass. It was only a simple little 
thing like an acorn, so small and simple that it 
escaped the watchful eye of the cunning red squir- 
rels that were sporting among the branches of the 
trees. The leaves came down from the branches 
above, burying it still deeper, the snows fell and 
hid it safely from sight during the long months 
of winter, but when the winter had passed away 
and the warm south winds blew through the for- 
est glades, and the sun came back to warm the fer- 
tile forest bed, behold! the tiny acorn bursts its 
shell and a tender shoot comes stealing up through 
the leaves and looks out upon a radiant, beautiful 
and sun-kissed world. 

“A century with its slow, measured tread goes 
by, and in fancy we visit the spot, but the tender 
shoot we saw kissed into life and so tenderly nour- 
ished by the sun, where is it now? We look about, 
though in vain, for no tender shoot can we find; 
yet where it stood stands now a tall, stately sap- 
ling nearly a foot in diameter. 

“Another century goes by and we visit the spot 
to find that the sapling which had started from so 
tiny a source has grown into a mighty oak almost 


190 Satan of the Modem World. 

as large as the largest in the forest. Another cen- 
tury and it has grown to its fulness and strength 
and stands erect and proud, a veritable king of 
the forest, its topmost branches towering high 
above all the rest. Another century with its 
changing seasons, its storms and sunshine passes 
hy, the seeds of decay and death have been sown by 
the hand of time, and disintegration is slowly and 
surely at work, undoing the work of centuries. 
The topmost branches have died and are slowly 
rotting away, the roots have been profusely per- 
forated by worms; yet the trunk stands as erect 
and proud and serene as in the noonday period of 
its life. ‘Remorseless Time, what tears can stay 
him in his silent course, or melt his iron heart to 
pity !’ 

“A century hence, as on fancy’s wing, we ap- 
proach the now familiar spot, mingled with the 
wailing of the wind we hear a long, loud creak, a 
groan, a whistling and swirling of dead branches 
through the air, crashing of limbs, then with a 
mighty thud the king of the forest, the giant oak, 
once so stately and proud that it braved the storms 
of time for centuries past, lies now before us in 
a heap of broken limbs and saplings. A century 
hence we visit the spot to find that the bark and 
branches and part of the trunk have rotted away 
and crumbled to dust. Another century goes by. 
Again and for the last time we visit the spot, but 
look in vain for .some trace of that mighty work of 
nature, for all that remains to tell the mournful 
tale is the little mound of earth I saw the other 
day, a small heap cast up by the roots as the trunk 
fell, now overgrown with grass and weeds. The 


Satan of the Modern World. 191 

last remnants had crumbled to dust and been 
washed into the earth by the snows and rains of 
the past century. Nature gave this mighty oak 
to the world with no apparent design, obliterated 
it without a sigh of regret, and the elements of 
which it was composed have been taken back to 
earth from whence they came to feed the atmos- 
phere and be transformed into countless other 
forms of life in distant times and places. 

“Do you call that waste of energy evidence of 
divine wisdom? Is it the prodigality of God or 
the law of nature?” 

“Again : Let me ask why should God create one 
race for a stronger one to domineer, enslave or de- 
stroy? Is it because one is a chosen race that 
others should be kept in bondage? If so, why 
then were not mankind created into one great 
chosen race instead of a multitude from which one 
was chosen to dominate and enslave the rest? 
Are chosen people more difficult to create? Or 
has God idled away his time for ages past experi- 
menting at the expense of poor humanity ? 

“As I came across the continent three years 
ago I saw, what to me, was a sad and melancholy 
spectacle ; although I have no doubt it would have 
filled the good souls of Jonathan Edwards and 
Cotton Mather with delight. It was at Butte, 
Montana. Four miles south and a little west of 
the city stands Timber Butte, a small mountain 
so called on account of a dense growth of pine with 
which it was at one time covered, though it is bar- 
ren now. Early one evening in summer I strolled 
out there for the purpose of climbing to the top 
whence I could get a splendid view of the city 


192 Satan of the Modern World. 

and survey the valley scene as the sun went down 
behind the western foothills and the shadows fell 
over that opulent city, perched high up among 
the rocks and boulders of the Eocky Mountains. 
It was still early in the evening when I began the 
ascent, and reaching a huge boulder about half 
way up, sat down to regain my breath and catch 
a glimpse of the landscape across the valley. I 
then discovered over to the southeast, and at the 
foot of the hill, a small Indian village numbering 
perhaps a dozen tepees, and from where I sat I 
could see a number of bucks and squaws prowling 
around among them. As I sat watching them I 
forgot for the time being the errand which had 
brought me there, and fell to musing on the 
strange fate of those simple children of nature, 
and the striking contrast they exhibited in their 
primitive wigwams to the great city of the pale- 
face beyond the valley, with its splendid civiliza- 
tion and unbounded wealth, when suddenly a 
shadow fell athwart the rock in front of me, and 
looking up, I saw standing on another boulder a 
few yards away, and between me and the setting 
sun, the splendid figure of a young Indian brave. 
He wore the typical raiment of the Indian of the 
plains to-day, that is to say, shoes, shirt and 
trousers of any description, such as the paler 
brother had cast aside, and with the one inevitable 
adornment, a striped blanket and broad-brimmed 
hat with a wreath of feathers. The symmetry and 
poise of the body was most noble and sublime, 
and, forgetful of my mission, I sat and gazed 
upon him in silent admiration. The sun sank 
down behind the distant foothills in a blaze of 


Satan of the Modern World. 193 

glory, the shadows of evening deepened, the lights 
of the distant city came out and sparkled like a 
million diamonds through the darkness, and still 
the lone child of nature, with blanket wrapped 
closely around him, stood upon the rock like a sen- 
tinel turned to stone and gazed in seeming awe 
and wonder at the strange and mighty civilization 
across the valley as something too deep for his 
wild and simple nature to comprehend. To me 
it was the saddest and most pathetic sight I have 
ever witnessed. Before me stood a representative, 
a member of that now feeble remnant of a once 
vast and numerous race; and before him he saw 
the white usurper at the height of his power and 
glory. Alas, what a cruel fate is his! What a 
change four centuries has wrought in the condi- 
tions and demeanor of the Noble Red Man of the 
forest. Stubbornly he has bowed his neck to the 
white man’s yoke, and the inevitable result is ob- 
literation from the great continent of which he 
was once the sole possessor. 

“Is the Redman’s hard destiny an evidence of 
the goodness and mercy of God? Far, far from 
it. It is but one more testimony added to the pre- 
ponderance of evidence that man is the creature 
of conditions and law, that the fittest alone sur- 
vive. 

“If you would have further evidence, and that 
too, taken from before your eyes, you have but to 
go to that great tract of waste land beside my 
home where, beneath twenty-two feet of soil — 
soil, too, that required in its creation an incon- 
ceivable period of time — lies a great subterra- 
nean lake of several square miles in extent. 


194 Satan of the Modem iWorld. 

“So much, then, for natural law. But when 
life is spoken of as not being worth living, I, too, 
often feel the force of the objection. But who 
can change the decrees of nature? Often they 
are as cruel as they are immutable and eternal, 
and no power of heaven or earth can change them 
one ‘tittle or jot’ no more than could Christ by 
taking thought add a cubit to his stature! But 
there is another and more sunny side to this ques- 
tion, a side to which the church has ever turned a 
deaf and unwilling ear, and ever will. Why is 
life not worth living, as it is not to a multitude of 
unfortunate human beings? Because the church, 
and the church alone, has made the world an un- 
fit dwelling place for man. As we tread the dark- 
ening pathway of life we find poverty, sin and 
crime flourishing on every side, though the church 
has made no attempt to remove it, has put forth 
no effort to bring about a state of perfection on 
this darkened planet, and make this a world in 
which justice and equality shall reign for 
all. To them the task seems too stupendous, ut- 
terly impossible ; therefore they preach to ‘take no 
thought for the morrow; but believe only in the 
Lord Jesus Christ’ that you may be saved from 
your sins in this world and rewarded with a life 
of eternal joy in a world to come, — a world of 
which nature teaches us nothing, and for which 
we, knowing nothing, should care nothing. 

“Blind followers of a delusive hope ! You pin 
your faith and hope of happiness to an unknown 
world and close your eyes to the misery and woe, 
and the beauty and sunshine alike, of this, and 
make no effort to drive from it its poverty and 


Satan of the Modem World. 195 

sin and suffering. Did not the Master say, ‘The 
poor ye have with ye always?’ Therefore instead 
of building homes for the aged, feeding the hungry 
and clothing the naked, properly caring for the 
sick, and raising a great fund from which every 
honest unemployed man could draw his support 
in time of need instead of being forced into a life 
of crime as they are to-day, the wealth which 
should be thus expended is poured into the greedy 
paw of the church that a corrupt and time-worn 
creed may be perpetuated to enslave the brain of 
man. Day after day and year after year millions 
of dollars flow into the hungry coffers of the 
church, while up and down the length and breadth 
of the land the gaunt spectre of famine wends its 
ghostly way, leaving in his wake millions who are 
starving for the want of that which the church 
squanders in luxurious extravagance. Confront- 
ing the next generation are found the same un- 
solved problems, the same sad state of affairs; but 
they are as incapable of dealing with them as were 
their predecessors, and the only steps taken to 
better the conditions of mankind are to build 
larger and more costly houses of worship, hoping 
in that way to drown the cries of the starving with 
the clanging of church and cathedral bells. 

“When the dark and dreadful clouds of war be- 
gan to gather over the devoted heads of our Revo- 
lutionary sires, Thomas Paine stood manfully up 
before the world and said : ‘If war must come, let 
it come in my day that my children may have 
peace/ Oh, for a generation of such men to-day, 
men who would wipe poverty and sin and crime 
from the fair face of earth forever that when an- 


196 Satan of the Modern World. 

other generation came to take the places left va- 
cant by us they would find this a beautiful world 
indeed, a world in which poverty, sin and suffering 
was unknown. They would find this a world 
in which the countless millions of dollars 
which to-day are wrapped up in useless, 
untaxed church property would be used for the 
material benefit of mankind; and then, if after 
all there was no life beyond the grave, they would 
no longer murder the sunshine with the dismal 
complaint that this one had been lived in vain/ 5 


Satan of the Modern World. 197 


CHAPTER XII. 

SATAN OF THE ANCIENT WORLD. 

Outside, the weather was damp and cold, the 
day dark, dismal and gloomy; but no more so 
than were the thoughts that were passing through 
the mind of Harry Brown as he sat before the 
great fireplace in the library that cold October 
day, with head bowed upon his breast in a deep 
and profound reverie, oblivious to everything but 
his own sad thoughts. 

“Laugh at the sea,” a philosopher has said, “and 
it laughs back at you.” 

“Frown upon the world, and all the world 
frowns back at you in return,” said another. 
Does the mood of man influence the elements of 
nature as well, or does nature reflect its mood in 
the soul of man? No mourner was ever more 
lonely, silent and sad than the still form before 
the fire; and as though to add if possible to his 
cup of woe, the wind howled in mournful, sighing 
cadence through the tree tops of Maple Lawn, rat- 
tled the great oaken shutters and window panes 
and whistled shrilly as it swept in great gusts 
through the minarets above. 

All day long, like a caged lion he had paced 
restlessly to and fro throughout the house; look- 
ing out through one window, then another, in an 


198 Satan of the Modern World. 

aimless, discontented manner; but the scene he 
gazed upon was far from a cheerful one and but 
little calculated to soothe his restless spirit. 

It was but a dreary scene at best to look upon, 
for, sad and solemn with age, it told him the story 
of a dying autumn world. The earth was grim 
and grey, the trees were almost bare, while the 
leaves, tinged with golden red, rustled harshly on 
the ear as they were swept along before the chill- 
ing autumn winds. Upon the distant mountain 
tops the snow was fast creeping- towards the base, 
and the whole world about, so green, verdant 
and beautiful, but a few short weeks before, was 
now a scene of the most solemn grandeur. 

Throughout the long hours of the day the ex- 
pression resting on his face, as he gazed out upon 
the scene of desolation which had followed the in- 
vasion of Jack Frost, the king of the icy north, 
had been that of a wild bird robbed of its freedom 
and now beating its wings helplessly against the 
walls of its cage as it caught glimpses of liberty 
just beyond. 

But it was not bolted doors or prison bars that 
held Harry Brown a prisoner within the walls of 
his own house. He was free to come and go as 
he pleased; but, alas! outside in the great world 
beyond he would be as lonely and as much an exile 
as was Crusoe on a lonely isle in the midst of the 
sea. All day long he had walked the floor, aim- 
lessly to and fro, from window to window, and 
when the darkness of night came stealing in upon 
him he drew a great arm chair up before the fire, 
and sitting there was soon lost in a world of remi- 
niscent thought. 


Satan of the Modem World. 199 

Dismal indeed was the aspect of the outside 
world that day, but a hundred times more so were 
the prospects confronting the young philosopher 
of Maple Lawn. Startling in its vividness, a 
vision rose up before him and in fancy he saw 
on the shore of a distant isle the short, yet haughty 
and commanding figure of a man, shorn of his 
power now, yet at whose name nations had at one 
time trembled, and at whose will Kings, Emperors 
and Popes had bowed down before him. 

From his face (that of a dreamer, too), ambition 
and hope had faded, and in their place was written 
disappointment, and in his eyes the hopelessness 
of despair as he stood there hour after hour and 
day after day, gazing out in dreamy silence over 
the great sad sea, beating its waves ever and ever 
against the shore as relentlessly as the decree of 
fate that placed him there. “Such was the end of 
thy hopes and dreams, oh, great Napoleon',” he 
mused, “and blasted hopes and dead ambitions 
carry with them as bitter a sting to-day as when 
thou stood in exile, gazing sadly out over the lonely 
and desolate sea.” 

“Hope, false, fickle, heartless jade thou art; yet 
what would life be without thee ? One day, filled 
with vanity and conceit we go forth treading the 
mountain tops of happiness and hope only to be 
cast down on the morrow to the bottomless pit of 
misery and despair. Wiser, yes, far wiser than he 
thought did Solomon say, ‘All is vanity/ ” 

We who have followed the career of Harry 
Brown from his boyhood days, can scarcely fail to 
perceive that a great change has come into his life, 
a change that had left him with spirit crushed and 


200 Satan of the Modern World. 

broken beneath an overwhelming burden of sor- 
row and despair. The burden which had driven 
the sunshine from his light and happy heart was 
not of his own making, though, had he so chosen, 
he might have avoided it at the expense of his 
manhood; but he scorned happiness when pur- 
chased by dishonorable or cowardly means such as 
were offered him. 

He had seen the dark cloud rising above the 
horizon of his life, and heard the distant mutter- 
ings of thunder long before the storm broke, and 
well he knew that fatal Sunday morning on which 
he had gone to church to hear the Eev. Thomp- 
son preach his maiden sermon what the text would 
be, and that the occasion would be taken advan- 
tage of as one on which to avenge a wrong that 
had no existence except in the imagination of a 
selfish and arrogant brain, and throw dowm the 
gauntlet and aggravate him into making a definite 
statement of his philosophy or creed. 

He might, of course, have escaped the conse- 
quences which were sure to follow a religious con- 
troversy by dodging the issue and ignoring the 
attack made on him, but would it have been manly ? 
Would it have been an honorable course for him to 
pursue? Ho, it would not only have been cow- 
ardly, but would have been an act of the basest 
ingratitude to the martyrs and emancipators of 
the past to whom he owed all the freedom he now 
enjoyed, mental, religious and moral. 

What would the world have been to-day, his con- 
science asked, had they in their day and age con- 
cealed their honest thought from the world? A 
living hell as it was then, when monks, nuns, and 


Satan of the Modern World. 201 


torture chambers were as numerous as the sands 
on the sea shore. Was he better than they? Was 
life dearer to him than it had been to Paine, Vol- 
taire, Bruno and Hypatia, that he should leave 
unperformed a solemn duty he owed mankind? 
Alas, no! He was in duty bound and could not 
have done other than he had done. 

He had lived true to his ideal, he had been hon- 
est with himself and charitable to others, and if 
the consequences had been disastrous to him, he 
was not to blame and would accept the inevitable 
without complaint, for he had clearly foreseen 
what the end would be; and then, others in the 
past had suffered far more than he. Yes; he 
would accept life as it came to him, cheerfully and 
philosophically, and if this ungrateful generation 
refused to do him honor perhaps another would 
prove more charitable and respect his memory. 

As a man without price Paine lived true to his 
ideal and died in the land he had helped make 
free, despised and dishonored by those who were, 
and are to-day, enjoying the blessings of his fer- 
tile genius and lofty patriotism. 

Voltaire became a voluntary exile from his 
native land that he might live true to his ideal, 
and unhampered by priestcraft, labor for the free- 
dom of Prance. True ; and he too, in spite of the 
opinions of the world, could live true to his ideal 
and would no doubt in time to come, forget the 
bitterness that swelled up in his heart as often as 
he thought of the mad outburst of fanaticism that 
had robbed him of his happiness and interrupted 
his life’s work. 

But there are times when something happens 


202 Satan of the Modern World. 


to which even philosophic resignation refuses to 
become reconciled. While at the village the day 
before he had gone to the library expecting to see 
Virginia ; but she was not there. 

This was a surprise, but there was another and 
greater one in store for him, for upon asking the 
assistant if she would be down that afternoon, he 
was handed a note addressed to him in Virginia’s 
handwriting. Eagerly and expectantly he broke 
the seal, and what little hope had remained in his 
heart after being coldly ignored by the villagers 
died out, leaving only a feeling of bitterness and 
desolation. 

“Dear Friend,” the letter read, “I am going 
away. Where, or for how long I cannot say, for 
I am in a state of anxiety and indecision too~ great 
to allow me even to think. The world, which for 
the past few months has been to me so beautiful 
and bright, is at best but a gay deceiver, and a 
life of bitterness and regret seems to be the fate 
of Virginia.” 

As he sat before the fireplace with heart so 
lonely and desolate he wondered where she was 
and why she had gone away so suddenly and mys- 
teriously. Had she, too, been prejudiced against 
him by the hateful cry of ‘"heretic” ? It could not 
be ; she was too generous and noble for that. 

True, she had given him no definite information 
as to her views on theology, but he was satisfied 
that they did not differ materially from his own ; 
therefore there must have been some other motive 
for her going away. But what could that motive 
have been? He knew that she loved him; why a 


Satan of the Modern World. 203 

then, had she not given him some hint as to where 
she was going, or an opportunity of seeing her 
first? 

Yes, why? was a question that asked itself over 
and over again, why ? why ? why ? But alas ! She 
had not; she was gone and possibly they would 
never meet again — never, nevermore; and if the 
raven had sat above the door croaking out its 
harsh, mournful notes to him, he could not have 
been more miserable and perplexed. The more he 
thought of the ingratitude of man, the lower like 
Bunyan’s Christian he sank into the “slough of 
despond.” Can we wonder that beneath this bur- 
den of sorrow and disappointment that fate had so 
ruthlessly cast upon him, he sank like a crushed 
and broken reed in hopeless, utterly hopeless de- 
spair ? All ambition had died out of his life and 
the idols he had so fondly cherished lay in broken 
fragments at his feet. 

The past seemed to float before his eyes as the 
open page of a book; but he could find nothing 
therein to justify the harsh decree of destiny that 
had robbed him of hope and happiness. 

But what was he to do ? Should he remain there, 
barred out as he was from the society of the world 
about him? Or should he become once more a 
wanderer over the face of the earth, making his 
home in foreign lands, amid strange and alien 
races? Out in the wide world and on the great 
sea of life he had been happy before; so, too, had 
he been at Maple Lawn before he began to mingle 
with the villagers ; but his heart had not then been 
pierced by Cupid’s dart, and love had not looked 
at him with soft, dark, pleading eyes. The more 


204 Satan of the Modern World. 

he thought the matter over the more like Crusoe, 
the old desire to ramble began to grow strong in 
him again. 

Perhaps amid the strange scenes of foreign 
lands the bitterness of his heart would wear away, 
and in time he would forget the woman he loved 
as she, no doubt was trying to forget him. Yes ; 
he would do that very thing. He would start at 
once, as soon as he could pack up and arrange his 
affairs, it would be but a few days at most. This 
determination once becoming firmly fixed in his 
mind, his troubled soul became calm, a quiet smile 
stole over his handsome face, and, leaning his head 
upon his hands before the cheerful fireplace, he 
forgot for the time being the cares and troubles of 
life and dozed off into a peaceful slumber. 

How long he may have slept he never knew, for 
the simple reason that he knew not whether it was 
morning or evening when he fell asleep. It may 
have been an hour — two — perhaps three, when 
something unusual happened, or at least appeared 
to do so in the room. It may have been a dream, 
but for the time being it seemed to him to be a 
frightful reality, which the reader will no doubt 
settle to his or her own satisfaction; but at any 
rate he saw, or fancied he saw in the depths of 
the fireplace a small black speck. 

Of course, there is nothing remarkable at all 
about a small black speck. Millions of people 
have seen them in as many different fireplaces and 
never considered it an event worthy of being re- 
corded; but evidently this was no ordinary black 
speck, for there was something about it that fasei- 


Satan of the Modern World. 205 

nated him ; and as he fixed a keen, searching gaze 
upon it, it seemed to expand and grow. 

Larger and larger it grew until it had reached 
the size of a new born babe, when it began to as- 
sume human shape, and still it grew. Soon it 
exceeded in height the tallest man and assumed 
proportions that staggered the watcher with the 
enormity of its size. What followed may seem a 
trifle strange considering the height of an ordi- 
nary fireplace; nevertheless it seemed to Harry 
that a form of no less than ten feet in height 
stepped boldly out from among the burning coals 
and drawing up a chair, sat down beside him, 
spread out his long, lank legs to their full length 
and began rubbing his hands together before the 
fire as though he had just come in from a long 
journey through the .cold night air. 

Although Harry had never enjoyed the acquaint- 
ance of that distinguished and antiquated indi- 
vidual who is known in church circles by such 
names as Satan, the Devil, and the Old Serpent, 
he seemed, however, to have no difficulty in recog- 
nizing him in his uninvited guest. The long, thin, 
bony legs appeared to be of a deep, fiery red, but 
whether it was a natural or artificial covering he 
was unable to tell. Prompted by curiosity, he 
stretched out his hand and felt of them, but when 
his fingers became seared as though in contact 
with live coals of fire he concluded that a close 
inspection of his guest was rather undesirable, and, 
accordingly abandoned it for the time being. 

Leisurely then his eyes wandered down towards 
the feet, and, strange to say, he found them to be 
just exactly such feet as he should have expected 


206 Satan of the Modern World. 


Satan to have, only longer — about two feet in 
length and slender and pointed as the steel spurs 
of a game cock. His curiosity in that direction 
being finally satisfied, he then leisurely and care- 
fully surveyed the upper part of his strange vis- 
itor’s body. He shuddered as his eyes rested on 
the arch demon’s face. If that face had been the 
personification of cunning at the time Eve was 
seeking notoriety in the garden, what could be 
said of it now? 

To say the least, it bore external evidence suffi- 
cient to prove that the experience of six thousand 
years had not been thrown away, and that this 
remarkable gift had been well cultivated during 
that short space of time. Cunning may have been 
a proper word with which to describe his face, 
when, in the morning of the world, he was driven 
from Paradise; but a new word must now be 
coined before any attempt can be made to describe 
the expression resting there. The face, as we 
have been informed by theologians who are well 
acquainted with it, wore a sneering, scoffing, 
crafty smile, though there was nothing cruel about 
it, even though the Pope of Rome and a Brigadier 
General of the Salvation Army have made asser- 
tions to the contrary. 

Possibly they may know whereof they speak ; but 
we have the evidence of a dream, and what stronger 
evidence can there be? Do not the foundations 
of the whole Christian Church rest upon Joseph’s 
dream ? 

The nose above the thin sneering lips was long 
— nearly four inches in length — or, so at least it 
seemed to Harry. Something of a nose to be sure ; 


Satan of the Modern World. 207 

yet, so finely chiseled was it that it did not seem 
out of proportion when the stature of its owner 
was taken into consideration. 

The eyes, so deep and dark and cunning, sat so 
far in beneath the shaggy brows that he could 
see only the brilliant flashes of light that shot 
forth as they opened and closed in a half sleepy 
manner. But when he looked for horns he was 
for the first time disappointed in the make-up of 
his guest; for there were none, neither was there 
any forked tail visible. Either he had left them 
below, or theology was a little off on that point, 
which is, of course quite impossible; or they may 
have turned into ears, for his were as large as 
palm leaf fans and were probably used as such 
during the summer season down below. 

The few principal features mentioned were all 
that he saw in the make-up of his visitor, except 
that he wore a peaked cap — almost as sharp and 
pointed as his toes; and after looking him care- 
fully over for a while, and finding nothing par- 
ticularly fierce about him, he concluded that he 
was only an ordinary sort of a Devil after all and 
hardly of sufficient importance to keep Heaven 
and earth in a ceaseless turmoil for six thousand 
years, as he is alleged to have done. For fully 
fifteen minutes he had stared at his guest before 
that individual made a move or sign which would 
indicate in any way that he was aware of another’s 
presence in the room. He simply sat there silent 
and unmoved, while two sheets of pure white 
flame shot forth at intervals from his deep set 
eyes, straight into the fireplace. 

At length he roused up suddenly and turned 


208 Satan of the Modern World. 


towards Harry with a look that seemed to go 
through him and far beyond in the distance, so 
bright and piercing was the light that blazed from 
his great luminous eyes. Harry shuddered as he 
encountered that gaze, but with a courage born of 
despair he met the fiery eyes unflinchingly. 

“Well?” he asked, inquiringly, in a calm tone 
of voice. 

“Well,” returned his visitor in a deep, musical 
voice that sounded like the distant chiming of 
bells. 

“Well, what do you want ?” asked the host. 

A cunning smile stole over the dark countenance ' 
of his visitor. “Oh,” he answered laconically, and 
his voice was now low and deep as though coming 
from some remote corner of the universe, “I 
simply heard a little disturbance going on down 
this way a few days ago, and thought perhaps it 
would be worth while for me to take a jaunt down 
and see if my services were required. ’Tis such a 
very stupid and pious neighborhood here, you 
know, that I have never cut much of a figure with 
these old-fashioned puritans. 

“You must have been raising the very devil in 
this neighborhood, Harry, for ’pon my word and 
honor as a Devil, it’s the first time I’ve been here 
since I seduced those degenerate Okemos Indians 
into the forbidden forest, about twenty-five thou- 
sand years ago. I am right glad, however, to have 
the pleasure of calling on you, even though it is a 
rather hustling time with me of late; that is, 
hustling times to find anything to do. 

“ ’Tis too bad, too. I used to be so popular, you 
know, had everything all my own way for ever so 


Satan of the Modem World. 209 

long; but somehow the fate of the Preacher seems 
to be mine, everyone has lost faith in me, and, 
doubting my very existence as they do, how can I 
expect to cut much of a figure?” And Satan, 
heaving a great sigh, continued : 

“Not only is the Salvation Army dogging my 
heels all the time, but people in general are get- 
ting so much smarter than they used to be. You 
may not think so, Harry, but you are young yet, 
you must remember, while I have drifted up and 
down the length and breadth of this universal 
‘pike’ for thousands of years, and know whereof I 
speak when I say that poor old Adam and Eve, 
with all their boasted perfection, were but as chil- 
dren compared to their descendants of the nine- 
teenth century ; notwithstanding Ellen White’s 
testimony to the contrary, who was there only in 
vision. 

“There’s too much learning and wisdom for me 
to-day, and seldom, indeed, do I meet with one 
whom I can beguile; consequently, when I see an 
opening of any kind I pounce down upon it like 
a hungry cur.” And Satan settled back in his 
chair with a woe-begone expression on his face. 

“Well, what seems to be the opening in this 
neighborhood that your majesty has so eagerly 
pounced down upon?” asked Harry, with biting 
sarcasm. “Considering that these fanatics did 
not quite accomplish my ruin, I suppose you saw 
your opportunity, and, as you have so frankly 
expressed yourself, pounced down upon me like 
a hungry cur? They went as far as human in- 
genuity dared to go in this enlightened age, and 
when they had reached the end of their rope, so 


2io Satan of the Modern World. 


to speak, the Prince of Cunning was at hand to 
complete the work. Well, no doubt you will fill 
a long felt want !” 

Satan surveyed him long and carefully before 
answering ; then broke out into a loud guffaw. 

“Haw, haw, haw!” he croaked, hoarsely; and 
the echoes of that awful voice sent a cold shiver 
up and down Harry’s spinal column. 

“You’re a cheerful sort of a cuss, Harry,” he 
said, slapping him on the shoulder in a familiar 
manner. “And you’re all right, too ! You’re a 
good fellow in your way, Harry, too good for these 
people around you here, too good even for this 
enlightened age, as you take pride in calling it; 
too good to bother that generous heart and fertile 
brain of yours over these fanatics around here. 
As I said before, you’re a good fellow in your way, 
but your way is a damned poor one for this or 
any other age; and to tell you so was the object 
of my visit here to-night. I wanted to have a 
talk with you and give you some good, sensible 
advice, for it pains me to see you making an ass 
of yourself as you did the other day. Pause a 
moment, Harry, and consider the question : What 
have you gained ?” 

“If I have gained nothing I have at least my 
manhood and honor left.” 

At the answer Satan’s lips parted again, and he 
broke out into a long, sneering, scoffing laugh. 
“Manhood and honor!” he echoed in tones that 
made the very air of the room pregnant with 
scorn. “Manhood and honor! What have they 
to do with society in this or any other age of the 
world? Were it fraud and delusion of which you 


Satan of the Modern World. 21 1 


speak there would be some sense to your argu- 
ment. But manhood and honor ! Bah ! Why 
should you bother your head about something for 
which the world has no reward, not even respect ?” 

“I am seeking no reward from the world, ” 
answered Harry, “except to live true to my ideal 
and have a clear conscience, that when I pass away 
from earth the closing days of my life may not 
be embittered with the thought that I have 
wronged some fellow creature/’ 

“Smother your conscience,” sneered the tempter, 
“and in its place sow the seeds of ambition and 
a lust for fame and power. Forget that there is 
such a thing as manhood and honor (something 
not very hard to do, as it is so seldom found), and 
place your ideal on the topmost pinnacle of fame 
and strive only to gain the heights regardless of 
the means employed. Ho this, and the people who 
despise you to-day will honor you to-morrow with 
the richest and rarest gifts in their power to be- 
stow. Do this and the pathway of your life will 
be strewn with flowers, in your ears will be ringing 
the plaudits of an admiring and enthusiastic popu- 
lace, and on your death bed your every want will 
be ministered to with kind and loving hands. 
Above the spot where you are laid to rest a noble 
monument will be erected, telling the world of 
your many good and noble deeds, and your 
honored name will be written high upon the scroll 
of fame, side by side with thousands of others who 
have accepted worldly honors as the price of their 
manhood. 

“How, from the bright side of life, Harry, let 
us take a look at the dark side, wherein you live 


2i2 Satan of the Modem World. 


true to your ideal. Here you are sad and lonely, 
a social outcast, an exile in your own home and 
barred out from the very place you have spent 
hundreds of dollars to establish; and, what is the 
most bitter blow of all, you have been deserted by 
the woman you love. Again you will become a 
wanderer over the face of the earth, and again in 
some other place you may repeat the experiment 
bf ennobling mankind with the same inevitable 
result, viz. : profit to others and disaster to your- 
self. Some day, if you persist in this folly, your 
wealth will be gone, and the world, the cruel, 
heartless, selfish world, will be as deep in sin as 
ever. 

“Ask the world then for bread and it will give 
you a stone. Ask it for a smile, and it will give 
you a frown. The bread you have so generously 
‘cast upon the water’ has never returned, and 
never will. Bah ! To think that you can reform 
the world is but an idle, foolish dream, and the 
greatest effort you can put forth will be but a 
futile one. Banish it from your mind, Harry, and 
dream of it no more. Live but to satisfy your 
ambitions and desires, and satisfy them to the 
fullest extent possible, and be not particular as to 
the means employed. 

“To be manly and honorable is a very fine 
theory to preach, that is, if you are paid for it, as 
the clergy are, but a poor, poor policy to attempt 
to put into practice. 'Does it pay V Those three 
words, Harry, contain all the philosophy of life 
the modern world requires. Base all your actions, 
all your deeds on that one maxim, ‘Does it pay?’ 
Did you ever hear of a prosperous preacher who 


Satan of the Modem World. 213 

is being supported by a fat congregation poking 
his nose into the political and social corruption of 
New York or Chicago? Never! It doesn't pay 
him to do so. It is always some poor, unsuccessful 
devil who can’t get a parish large enough to sup- 
port him in style who finds that the notoriety 
gained through a sensational crusade against 
gambling houses and dives, or a slumming ex- 
cursion among the. powdered fairies of the levee 
pays because he hasn’t brains enough to get a rep- 
utation in any other way. 

“Always bear in mind, Harry, that the first 
consideration to be given any question — social, 
religious or other — is, does it pay? If it doesn’t, 
then let it alone. 

“As for the world,” he continued, as Harry sat 
silent, feeling the force of the argument, “it doesn’t 
want to be reformed. It can't be reformed. Ob- 
literate the race and create another, and perhaps 
then there will be some hope, but now there is 
none. Banish it from your mind and let it enter 
there no more. It is a theme Unworthy of con- 
sideration. Society from the very beginning was 
founded upon, and ever since has existed on hypoc- 
risy and fraud, and loves nothing better than to 
be imposed upon. 

“Men will sell their manhood and honor for 
some means through which to defraud their fel- 
lowmen and gain enormous wealth. The voice of 
conscience is smothered until they have gained 
millions and are forever placed above want, then, 
to ease their conscience \ (if, in fact, they have any 
left) and hide still further the unlawful business 
methods which have placed them in their exalted 


214 Satan of the Modem World. 

(position, they endow a college or build a library, 
and ever after are applauded by the blind and 
'deluded world as great benefactors of mankind. 

“Such is the condition of that class of people 
which the world calls respectable, moral, and 
sometimes deeply religious. For them the outlook 
is certainly bad enough, but when we turn to the 
immoral classes, those inhabiting the slums and 
dens of infamy in our great cities it is more hope- 
less still. 

“Look at the dens of infamy, haunted by human 
beasts of prey of both sexes, parasites who are 
lower in the scale of morality than is possible for 
brutes to fall. Can you reform them? One in a 
thousand perhaps, no more. Why are they there? 
Now and then one fancies they were driven 
there by a cruel fate, but the great majority 
take to that life as naturally as the flowers bloom, 
and the seasons come and go. Can you reform 
them, I ask again? Look into their faces, and 
when you have read the character written there, 
tell me, are they not living the very lives for which 
nature intended them ?” 

There was another long silence during which 
Harry gazed thoughtfully into the fire, while his 
strange visitor watched him closely with a 
strangely sympathetic light burning in his deep 
set eyes. 

“Is it not all true, Harry?” he asked at length. 

“Yes,” admitted Harry, hesitatingly, “I regret 
to say that it is ; but perhaps for that very reason 
a greater effort should be put forth to bring about 
a better condition of affairs and lift society to a 
higher plane of morality.” 


Satan of the Modern World. 215 

“To be sure, you can make the effort if you de- 
sire,” answered Satan, “but as I said before, would 
it pay? What would you gain, even though you 
met with some slight success, which you would 
not ? Nothing but to throw your life away trying 
to reform a degenerate race, which is not worth 
reforming, even though it were willing to be re- 
formed. You might, by your greater effort, as you 
call it, add a mite to the general advancement of 
civilization, but it is beyond your power to either 
advance or retard it to any great extent. Thinkers 
and philosophers are born, not made, and no man 
or woman ever yet became one except created by 
nature with a mental and moral mould qualifying 
them for such; and no one so qualified has ever 
fallen below that standard, no matter what their 
environment, hereditary influence, or the training 
of youth may have been, as you will fully agree 
if you but call to mind the fact that nearly all free 
thinkers and philosophers were the children of 
devout Christian parents. 

“But are you still in doubt as to what your 
future career should be ? Ah, you are a hard man 
to convince, Harry ! Evidently you have a mind 
of your own. But look,” he said, as he arose, 
stepped back and waved his hand in majestic 
grandeur towards the farthest end of the room. 
The flame of the lamp that had been burning low 
in the center of the room seemed to recede slowly 
to the spot at which the finger pointed, and as it 
reached there spread out in a thin, white sheet of 
flame until it covered the entire wall. A bright, 
white light seemed to blaze forth from the 
demon’s eyes, and as he fixed them upon the 


216 Satan of the Modern World. 


center of the sheet of flame he gave a short, sharp 
snap of his bony fingers, and, looking there, Harry 
beheld a scene that is familiar to every man, 
woman and child in Christendom, the form of 
Jesus of Nazareth as He appeared unto men at 
that distant day, clothed in coarse raiment, with 
rudely sandaled feet and followed by His twelve 
disciples, all as poorly clothed and forlorn appear- 
ing as He. 

The scene shifted from one to another of the 
various scenes of His life until at length it ended 
in the crucifixion, with the mad, scoffing, jeering, 
mocking mob around Him. 

“There,” said the demon, “behold the fate of 
one who, in His day and age, tried to reform the 
world! And now,” he continued, with a cruel 
sneer, “let us take a look at one of the noble and 
self-sacrificing martyrs of to-day, one who has 
taken up his Cross and followed His Master.” 

Another snap of the fingers and there came 
upon the canvas a scene which formed a striking 
contrast to the one just vanished. He saw what 
appeared to be the library of a modern preacher, 
who was being supported by a very wealthy congre- 
gation. The room was elaborately furnished 
throughout with elegant furniture, silken hang- 
ings, draperies and bric-a-brac in abundance, be- 
sides a magnificent private library with its pol- 
ished shelves and handsome volumes covering 
three sides of the room. On the fourth side was 
a large fireplace blazing cheerful, in front of 
which, sitting with feet elevated to the top of the 
grate leisurely perusing the pages of the latest 


Satan of the Modern World. 217 

Trench novel, he saw one of Washington’s most 
popular preachers. 

“There,” said Satan in a tone so fraught with 
scorn that the very air quivered, “is one of the 
meek and lowly followers of Christ, one of those 
who were commanded to take neither scrip nor 
purse, or thought for the morrow. He is, as you 
no doubt have already observed, a man of more 
than ordinary intelligence, so much so, in fact, 
that he does not, or never has believed the creed 
to which he readily subscribes. He is mentally 
dishonest or shiftless, perhaps both, therefore he 
offered his manhood for sale and getting what he 
considered a fair price, accepts life and its condi- 
tions very cheerfully and philosophically, as his 
attitude and surroundings clearly indicate. Of 
course, if he wasn’t a preacher and still gained his 
living through imposture, he would be dubbed a 
bunco steerer or a swindler; but wearing a cloak 
of religion he is respected and honored where 
otherwise he would soon be landed where he be- 
longs — behind prison bars. But let us pass the 
portals and enter the past again.” 

The scene now changed to one that was as 
sublime and heroic as it was tragic and awful — 
that of Bruno perishing amid fire and smoke, and 
surrounded by a mob of mediaeval monsters. 

“You see there the one great intellectual King 
of Europe,” continued Satan, “one whose talents, 
whose genius and learning would have placed him 
in St. Peter’s chair had he so desired, and whose 
name to-day would have been reverenced as that 
of the one great Pope of Rome. But Bruno, like 
you, had a fine sense of honor; hence the result. 


218 Satan of the Modern World. 


Now, just to see how different fares the man 
who, instead of wasting life in fighting popu- 
lar error, aids and encourages it that he may- 
gain wealth and power by so doing, let us, with 
the suffering and heroism of Bruno still fresh in 
our minds, take a look at one of the greatest re- 
ligious founders and empire builders of the modern 
world, that prince of bigamists and sensualists — 
Brigham Young.” 

Again the scene changed, and there appeared 
upon the canvas the beautiful home of the prophet, 
situated in the midst of the broad Utah Valley, 
surrounded by towering mountain chains, fertile 
fields blossoming with beauty, and far away in 
the distance he caught the glimmer of the blue 
waters of the great Salt Lake. 

“Brigham had his faults,” sneered the demon; 
“but he was by no means a cheap guy. He had his 
price, the people paid it, and it was the greatest 
ever paid to one man for imposing a senseless 
creed upon the world. All the wealth of the valley 
was at his command, the people mere vassals, 
nothing more. Never before in one man’s hands 
was power so supremely placed as in his, and 
never did mortal man use it so selfishly to his own 
advantage as did the Prophet of Deseret. But I 
have yet one more comparison to make.” 

Again the scene changed and Harry saw a 
woman, beautiful, wealthy, gited and young, 
selling herself on the social market of Europe to 
a man whom in her own heart she scarcely re- 
spected, simply that she might gain the height of 
her ambition, a title and admission to the social 
circles of royalty. To gain this she sold her 


Satan of the Modern World. 219 

womanhood, her honor and self-respect, accepted 
another creed and gave to a degenerate offspring 
of nobility the control of unlimited wealth. Again 
and for the last time the scene shifted, and he saw 
the beautiful and gifted Hypatia dragged from 
her chariot and torn to pieces by a frantic mob, 
simply for refusing to sell her womanhood. 

Satan snapped his fingers loud and angrily. 
The scene disappeared, the sheet of flame receded 
and the lamp on the table burned dimly as before. 

“Now,” said he, turning to his host and speak- 
ing in hoarse, scornful tones, “which do you con- 
sider the most fortunate, the most honored and 
the most happy — the man without price, suffering 
persecution, torture, perhaps death, or he who 
accepts life as it seems to him easiest and best?” 

Harry answered not a word, "but sat silent, 
crushed, and broken in spirit. 

Satan looked at him for a moment, gave a low, 
sneering laugh, then his gigantic figure began to 
grow thinner and thinner, until at last it faded 
away in a thin mist and disappeared with the 
echoes of that mocking laugh ringing throughout 
the room. A few hours pass by, and on awaken- 
ing from his deep sleep Harry looked expectantly 
around the room, but, to his surprise, found him- 
self to be entirely alone. The lamp on the table 
was burning dimly as when he had sat down there 
hours before, and the fire in the grate was reduced 
to a mass of smouldering coals. 

“Only a dream,” he uttered, “and yet so real, 
so frightfully real and lifelike.” 

Every word had sunk deep into his soul, and 
now that he was awake he could recall the 


220 Satan of the Modem World. 


dialogue word for word. But what to think or what 
to do he could not yet decide. He concluded, how- 
ever, he would remain at Maple Lawn for a few 
days longer and consider the matter, and perhaps 
after all he would not go away. 


Satan of the Modem World. 221 


CHAPTER XIII. 

SATAN OP THE MODERN WORLD. 

The autumn days passed slowly by and length- 
ened into weeks. The weeks crept slowly into 
months, the hoar frost was upon the land holding 
everything in its icy grasp. Still Harry Brown 
lingered at Maple Lawn idling his time away, 
haunted by doubts and fears and halting between 
two opinions. On one hand duty with wistful 
eyes, pale face and pleading voice beckoned him, 
on the other, ambition smiled on him with allur- 
ing, delusive smiles ; and between the two, between 
what his conscience told him was right and what 
the world was endeavoring to force him to accept 
as right, he was still as undecided as when he had 
awakened from his dream a few months before. 

On one side he saw fame, worldly honor and 
unbounded success awaiting him, while on the 
other was a sacred duty which, if performed, 
would bring no reward other than the antagonism 
and hatred of the very ones he was seeking most 
of all to benefit. One day he would firmly resolve 
that no matter what happened he would live true 
to his ideal, only to break his good resolution on 
the morrow ; after which would come another long 
period of hesitation and doubt. 


222 Satan of the Modern World. 


The words of his dream were still fresh in his 
memory and the influence they had thrown around 
him was so strong that he could not break its fet- 
ters. A dozen times or more while sitting by his 
lonely fireside at night he had fully determined 
that on the morrow he would leave the scenes 
of his sorrow and affliction and wander once 
more over the wide world until in some land 
or clime, some time or place, he had forgotten 
the disappointments that had marred the happiness 
of his life and driven the sunshine from his heart. 
To resolve is easy, but resolutions alone accomplish 
nothing; thus, when the morning came he would 
be as undecided and as much at sea as ever. 

It was hard for him to leave the beautiful home 
that had become so dear to him, hard to give up 
all hopes of happiness and thought of meeting 
once more the woman he loved, and hard to leave 
unfinished the work he had so successfully com- 
menced at the village; hut time, time the ancient 
wizard, finds a way to solve all problems, and 
Harry Brown’s difficulty was no exception to the 
rule. His unsettled state of mind was brought to 
a sudden close one day and in a manner which, 
though somewhat disagreeable, left no doubt in 
his mind as to what his future course of life should 
be. 

Across the road from the house, some distance 
beyond his broad pasture fields, still stood the 
dark, dismal swamp which had been an eyesore to 
him on account of shutting off from view the 
beautiful valley beyond with its crystal stream 
and rolling foothills. He had some doubts as to 
being able to obtain possession of it now, for the 


Satan of the Modem World. 223 

Deacon not only hated him on general principles, 
hut had by no means forgotten the unmerciful 
manner in which he had flayed his Ike at the vil- 
lage a few months before. 

The Deacon had never spoken to him since that 
day, never met him without a dark frown and a 
muttered curse ; yet he wanted the land and would 
make an attempt to get it, frown or no frown. He 
would do all that could be done by honest means, 
and if he could not obtain what he desired in that 
way he would then consider the question of 
using others, methods to which millions resort 
every day and never even for a moment think of 
as being sinful or unmanly. Therefore the next 
time he saw that pious individual passing he went 
to the gate and hailed him. The Deacon did not 
seem very much inclined to stop, and still less to 
talk; hut at length, however, he condescended to 
stop and listen to what the infidel had to say, for, 
as he reasoned to himself, simply listening would 
hardly be a crime so great as to condemn a good 
man to hell forever. 

He proved to he fully as impatient, as he was 
an unwilling listener, for no sooner had Harry 
reminded him of his promise to sell him that 
piece of swamp land, saying that he was ready to 
buy it and was willing to pay a good price for it, 
than he flew into a great rage and began to blow 
and bluster about infidels with whom he declared 
he “wanted no dealin’ or no truck no how, and 
bad as he wanted money, he’d see the whole dog- 
goned farm sink into the ground ’fore he’d sell a 
foot of it to an infernal heathen.” 

As Harry went thoughtfully back to the house, 


224 Satan of the Modern World. 

chagrined at his unsuccessful attempt to get what 
he wanted by honest means, the words of his 
dream came vividly before his mind, and again 
he heard the scornful words echoing in his ears: 
“The world has no reward for manhood and 
honor.” Was it true ? Was it worth while, after 
all, to be manly and honorable? Thus far in life 
he had adhered to that principle, believing that it 
w^as ; he had been manly and honorable to a fault, 
but what had he gained by it? As the Satan of 
his dream asked, “Had it paid ? If so, where was 
his reward ?” Of course he had a clear conscience, 
but was that sufficient to repay him for the many 
indignities he had suffered? Hardly, when for 
the utterance of a few simple, truthful statements 
concerning his philosophy of life he had been 
ostracised from the society of the village, shunned 
by all who knew him and deserted by the woman 
he had loved and supposed to be the very soul of 
honor. 

It was true that a few of the younger people of 
the village still loved and respected him and were 
as firm in their allegiance to him as before ; yet so 
strong was the prejudice of the majority and so 
severe their censure that few, indeed, cared to 
make an open profession of friendship for him. 
A condition of affairs such as that was bad 
enough, but here was a case where one was so 
narrow minded and bigoted that he positively re- 
fused to sell him a worthless piece of land when 
by so doing he could pay off the mortgage on his 
farm and save it from the sheriff’s sale, which was 
sure to come in the near future. 

Was it true that the world cared not for true 


Satan of the Modem World. 225 

manhood and honor? Such certainly appeared to 
be the case, and right then and there he resolved 
to solve the problem in his own case and learn 
if it were really true that an honest man is with- 
out honor in this boasted nineteenth century civil- 
ization. If for nothing more, it would be worth 
trying just to find out if the world really had a 
price to offer him, and if so, what his real value 
might be in dollars and cents, fame or power, or 
whatsoever it had for barter. 

To be a hypocrite for a few short months would 
not necessarily condemn him forever to a life of 
hypocrisy; for after he had learned the truth, or 
at any time his conscience tormented him beyond 
endurance he could renounce the world with its 
shams and delusions and truthfully say: “You 
alone have made me what I am. I am a hypo- 
crite, not from choice, but necessity.” 

Yes, he would try it, anyway, for unless he tried 
the experiment he would never know the truth, 
therefore, instead of idling away his time any 
longer as he had for months past between conflict- 
ing doubts, each as uncertain as the other, he 
would learn the truth at the earliest opportunity 
and then base his whole future on the result of 
that investigation. 

They say that fortune favors the brave, and per- 
haps it favors the coward as well, for fortune 
seemed to favor him from that very hour. 

That evening the Parson, who had so far recov- 
ered his health as to be able to resume his duties 
at the church, came in to return some books which 
Harry had loaned him during his illness, for there 
had been no break in the friendship existing be- 


226 Satan of the Modern World. 


tween them at the time of the outburst of fanati- 
cism at the village. During the half hour he re- 
mained no mention was made of the antagonism 
existing against Harry, though it was the one 
thought uppermost in the mind of each; but as 
he arose to go he said, with a forced and unmean- 
ing laugh: “As there seems to be, in the minds 
of a few of the elders, at least, a slight spread of 
heresy abroad, also there being so many strangers 
in attendance at the school, they have decided to 
hold a series of revivals for two weeks, possibly 
longer. I suppose you will come, Harry,” he 
added, hesitatingly. 

“Yes, of course,” was the ready answer. “I 
shall be most happy to do so. In fact, I have 
been thinking seriously of late of uniting with 
the church, and this will be an excellent oppor- 
tunity, for, just at this time they will be looking 
for particularly hardened sinners to repent, and 
coming in at a critical moment with a penitent 
face and a long confession of sin as I intend to do, 
I ought to make a very favorable impression — a 
great hit ; don’t you think so, Parson ?” 

There was just the faintest suspicion of a sneer 
in his tones, and the Parson looked at him aghast. 

“What do you mean, Harry? Have you really 
had a change of heart, or are you joking?” he 
asked in rather an uncertain tone. 

“Well,” answered Harry, laconically, while a 
semi-serious smile flitted about his lips, “you may 
call it a change of heart if you wish, and, perhaps, 
for convenience’ sake, we had both better let it pass 
at that, for I suppose it is a real one, as real at 
least as a person can have who has a point to gain 


Satan of the Modern World. 227 

and finds religion a convenient cloak to don in 
order to gain it. Do you accept such Christians 
in your church ?” he went on, mercilessly. 

The Parson colored to the very roots of his 
hair, looked sheepishly down at his feet and began 
to stammer out some inarticulate words in reply. 

“What’s the matter, Parson?” Harry asked, 
laughing. “Don’t you want me in your church, 
or has the coat fitted you so well that you have 
unconsciously slipped it on and can’t get out 
of it?” 

“Don’t taunt me, Harry,” said the preacher, 
still shifting his eyes about the floor, “for I have 
far less respect for myself than others have for 
me. Why? Because I am a victim of circum- 
stances and cannot help myself. I am miserable 
and degraded; but what can I do — starve? Were 
it not for my wife and children I could face the 
world and brave its opinions, endure poverty, 
want, anything, in fact, but this mental anguish 
that is racking my brain and making life almost 
unbearable to me. But as it is I can only continue 
to suffer in silence and be what circumstances and 
necessity combined have compelled me to be for 
nearly a year — a lying hypocrite and pretender. 
Some day, however, I hope there will be a change 
in my life so that I can look a fellow creature in 
the face without the fear in my heart that he will 
read the secret of my hypocrisy and sin.” 

Their hands met in a friendly clasp. 

“You have my sympathy, for we both appear to 
he in about the same boat ; but be of good cheer, _ 
Brother, for better days may soon be in store for 
you. Be a friend to me in a time of need, and no 


228 Satan of the Modern World. 

matter what may happen you will never suffer 
from poverty or be forgotten while Harry Brown 
lives.” 

****** * 

The wave of excitement which had swept over 
the village in early autumn, shaking society to its 
foundations, was as nothing compared to the one 
which followed the conversion of “the Infidel of 
Maple Lawn.” 

Into the church one evening during the first 
week of the revivals came Harry Brown with a 
very penitent and thoughtful expression on his 
face, and at the close of a long exhortation from 
a neighboring preacher, arose and asked to be 
taken into the fold. To say that the congregation 
was wrought up to a high pitch of excitement is 
a mild description of the scene that followed. The 
hallelujahs and amens came thick and fast from 
the saints (?) gathered there, and were loud and 
long, and one pious old brother with more en- 
thusiasm than common sense shouted in a voice 
that could be heard high above all the others: 
“Thank God, the Infidel is saved !” 

When sufficient thanks had been returned to 
God for the miracle He had wrought, and the con- 
gregation had been dismissed, the scene which fol- 
lowed was more enthusiastic than the preceding 
one had been. 

Men and women alike gathered around him 
shouting their praises and applauding his vir- 
tues, offering their congratulations and returning 
thanks to God for the redemption of his soul all 
in one breath. 

But how about the redeemed individual himself, 


Satan of the Modem World. 229 

and how did he feel over the great ovation given 
him? For them to rejoice over his redemption 
was simply casting pearls before swine. He fairly 
snorted wdth rage and disgust as he left the church 
and walked home alone through the cold winter's 
night. 

He had tried the experiment, and in one brief 
hour became convinced that the words of his 
dream were true ; alas, too true ! But mournful 
or happy, disgusted or otherwise, his mind 
was at rest upon one point. He knew from 
bitter experience that the world had no 
reward for manhood and honor, and that 
he would be respected and honored only so 
long as he bowed down to popular opinion and 
contributed towards the support of a dominant 
church. Then, and not before would he receive 
all honors due his intellectual power and genius. 

As may quite naturally be expected, he heartily 
despised the whole proceedings ; yet he had no idea 
of retracing his steps, not for some time at least; 
for perhaps in his present environment he could 
yet bring about some of the changes he desired in 
the social life and mental atmosphere of the vil- 
lage. If so, the end might yet justify the means ; 
and to make his prestige all the more secure, he 
became a regular attendant and a liberal contrib- 
utor, though he was by no means a zealous worker 
in the Master’s vineyard. 

He never volunteered for any service, whether 
great or small, had as little to do and say concern- 
ing the affairs of the church as was possible, and 
if there were any who doubted his sincerity they 
wisely refrained from treading on his toes, as they 


230 Satan of the Modem World. 

were too thankful for the support and prestige his 
presence gave to care very much as to the possible 
or probable depth of his conversion. They had 
safely landed the “Big Fish/’ as a sensational 
preacher was once heard to remark, and what 
mattered it to them so long as they had him in the 
fold? Was it not of more importance to keep him 
there than to question his sincerity? 

He had sold his manhood, leaving the question 
of reward entirely to chance ; but he had not long 
to wait. It came so suddenly, in fact, that he 
almost wondered if it had not been held in store 
for him. The very next morning the Deacon 
called and informed him that “Seein’ as that 
piece of swamp land was no good to him no how, 
and the mortgage on his farm was due, an’ he 
hadn’t a cent to save it from foreclosure, he’d 
sell it if Hajry would lend him anuff money to 
pay it off, and take a new one for the balance, 
which would be about a couple 0’ hundred dol- 
lars.” 

This he cheerfully did, having the new one 
given for a long term of years and with a low 
rate of interest, and considered that even then he 
had made an exceedingly good bargain. His next 
step was to do as he had remarked to the Deacon 
several months before, clear off the swamp root 
and branch, drain it high and dry, after which it 
became, not only the most productive and fertile, 
but also the most valuable land in the whole 
State. It was not alone valuable in itself, but 
with the beautiful landscape thus spread out be- 
fore Maple Lawn, a large percentage had been 
added to its value, even though he had added 


Satan of the Modern World. 231 

nothing to the value of his soul ; which was, under 
the circumstances, no doubt a very wise and 
Christianlike manner of excusing his conduct. He 
had gained his point by using religion as a me- 
dium, but religion was none the worse for it, for 
seldom, indeed, has it been used for any other pur- 
pose. If his conscience pricked him occasionally 
he took shelter under sophistry and eased it by 
saying that in some way he could accomplish 
enough good in the world to atone for the sin he 
had committed, which was still another Christian 
method of reasoning. 

During the remaining months of winter he de- 
livered another course of lectures at the village 
which were as well attended as were the preceding 
ones, and with the proceeds a large and valuable 
addition was made to the already magnificent 
library. Next he agitated and brought about 
something of equal importance to the welfare of 
the village, and which would make the library an 
enduring institution; that was to have it sup- 
ported by taxation instead of depending for its 
maintenance entirely on the generosity of a few 
charitable individuals, as in the past. 

Thus as the fame of Harry Brown was again 
heralded abroad that of the village grew apace, 
and then came new and more difficult problems to 
be solved. 

As the closing days of school drew near the 
outside students, with scarcely an exception, 
stated their intentions of returning again in the 
autumn, also that each had friends who wished 
to accompany them. Here, then, was a serious 
problem confronting the school board, which, if 


232 Satan of the Modern World. 

acted on at all, must be acted on at once. The 
school was at present greatly overcrowded, and with 
prospects of twice as many students for the com- 
ing year, something must be done. They did not 
want to turn them away, for more students meant 
better times and plenty of money for all, and even 
good puritans are not adverse to taking all the 
gold that comes their way. 

In their difficulty they called a meeting of the 
board and appealed to Harry Brown for advice. 

“What shall we do?” they asked. 

“Do?” was the laughing rejoinder. “Why, 
build another schoolhouse, of course. Encourage 
all to come who will and never cease your efforts 
until the noblest college of the entire State adorns 
our humble village.” 

“But that takes money!” they objected. 

“Quite naturally it would, considering that 
Aladdin is not here with his wonderful lamp,” 
was the reply; “but you have the money, and 
ought not to be afraid to invest it, especially after 
the benefits you have derived from similar invest- 
ments in the past. Your receipts from taxes have 
increased twenty per cent, in the past two years, 
and the value of your property over fifty. You 
are more prosperous than ever before in your 
lives, and with another and better school you 
would be doing better still. 

“Take my advice and build another and larger 
school, employ the best teachers you can get, 
then to add to the beauty of the town and the gen- 
eral prosperity of all subscribe sufficient money 
and build a large canning factory so that your 
spacious gardens may be utilized and a profitable 


Satan of the Modern World. 233 

market provided for all the fruit and vegetables 
that can be raised for a mile around. Then, if 
you want to make the new school a place of beauty, 
as well as of learning, build in connection with it 
a home for our library and let each of us vie with 
the other in the effort to make it the greatest 
in the State.” 

Such was his advice, rather terse and to the 
point to be sure ; nevertheless it was acted on with 
a speed which demonstrated more clearly than 
words could have done that they had unbounded 
faith in him once more. The foundations of the 
schoolhouse and library — a noble structure — were 
laid at once, the village and country for miles 
around bloomed with the beauty of one great gar- 
den, fruits began to be cultivated in abundance, 
and the villagers who had never before manifested 
any desire for flowers or beautiful lawns began to 
vie with each other in the effort to have the most 
beautiful and attractive home, for did not the 
most beautiful and attractive home secure the best 
paying boarders? If a greed for gold was really 
the cause of their thrift in cultivating flowers and 
vines and keeping neat door-yards, Harry for one 
was glad that the people were getting greedy. 

The canning factory, too, came in good time, 
and, acting on a quiet hint from its promoter, 
Fung and Jim reaped the richest reward of all for 
their summer’s work. Fortune was indeed smiling 
on the young sage of Maple Lawn and a kind fate 
seemed to be throwing a multitude of opportuni- 
ties athwart the pathway of his life. It was the 
year of a great national election ; the first one fol- 
lowing the war with Spain. A county convention 


234 Satan of the Modern World. 

was to be held over at the Falls from which dele- 
gates would he chosen to attend the State conven- 
tion a few days later, and in the great field of 
national politics Harry Brown determined to cast 
his lot and court favors from the Goddess of For- 
tune that he might win fame and power therein. 

His motives were not altogether selfish, or 
prompted by a lust for fame, for he was more than 
ordinarily interested in the coming election, as it 
would result either in the disapproval or con- 
demnation of the course pursued by the adminis- 
tration in dealing with the difficult problems 
which had grown out of the war and subsequent 
insurrection in the Far East. To him the ad- 
ministration, notwithstanding the many new and 
difficult problems with which it had been con- 
fronted, had been a glowing success, and he desired 
above all things that it should remain in power 
until its new policies had been successfully carried 
out. 

Amid a scene of mild enthusiasm he was chosen 
to lead the township delegation to the county con- 
vention which was to follow in a few days. 

The day soon came on which that convention 
was to be held. He was on hand early fully pre- 
pared to take advantage of every favorable oppor- 
tunity that arose, and to sway the convention to 
his advantage if it could be swayed by the power 
of eloquence and lofty patriotism. 

His was a very brief oration, taking in its deliv- 
ery scarcely more than ten minutes of time ; yet it 
was the most brilliant and profound ever heard 
within the walls of that gloomy old county court- 
house. He spoke briefly of the changed conditions 


Satan of the Modern World. 235 

of the land, the wonderful agricultural and indus- 
trial prosperity that pervaded every avenue and 
walk of life, and of the striking contrast formed 
to those in existence when the present administra- 
tion came into power, a time when millions were 
idle and thousands were starving in the midst of 
plenty. 

He then referred to the great outburst of patriot- 
ism which had preceded and existed all through 
the war with Spain, in the north as well as the 
south, the success of our arms on land and sea, 
and closed with a glowing tribute to the heroism 
of our soldiers and sailors, to whom he said the 
nation is indebted for all it is to-day, or can hope 
to be in years to come. 

As he brought his short, yet remarkably clever 
speech to a close a scene followed such as had 
never been witnessed before within those dingy 
walls. 

Men, who were old enough to have known better, 
jumped upon benches and chairs and shouted until 
the echoes ringing throughout the hall would have 
drowned the booming cannon of a hostile fleet. 
Admiration is sometimes so great that cheering 
and howling like demons fails to properly demon- 
strate it, consequently after a few moments of con- 
tinuous uproar a grand rush was made for the 
platform, and before the speaker was aware of 
what was going to happen, he found himself on 
the shoulders of an admiring throng who were 
carrying him around the room in triumph. 

Around the outskirts of that frantic mob, and 
well out of the way, old gray haired veterans were 
standing with tears streaming over their grizzled 


236 Satan of the Modern IWorld. 

faces, for tlie burning words to which they had 
just listened brought vividly back to their minds 
the days when they had fought on southern battle- 
fields ’mid shot and shell and the awful carnage 
of death that the nation might be saved from dis- 
solution and the flag still float in the breezes of 
heaven the emblem of the free and a menace to 
tyranny forever. 

A condition somewhat akin to order was at 
length brought about by persistent use of the gavel 
in a determined chairman’s hand, the work of the 
convention proceeded and was soon completed. The 
delegates were speedily chosen with Harry among 
their number. J ust who would be chosen as leader 
of the body had been the cause of much specula- 
tion, as many were seeking the honor, but no 
sooner had this new light flashed like a brilliant 
meteor across the local political horizon than the 
problem solved itself immediately and to the satis- 
faction of all concerned. 

Harry was chosen for the post of honor, was 
declared to be their choice for Congress, and his 
fellow delegates were instructed to vote for him as 
such under all circumstances. 

But perhaps the reader is curious to catch a 
glimpse of the thoughts which were passing 
through the mind of Harry Brown as he drove 
home from the convention at the close of that 
memorable day. If others were satisfied with the 
result of the day’s work he had cause to be abun- 
dantly so and something akin to the old familiar 
smile so often seen in days of old lingers playfully 
about his lips once more. The wild tumult of 
uncontrolled emotions that had raged so fiercely 


Satan of the Modern World. 237 

in his breast for long, weary months has ceased 
entirely, and his life is calm, peaceful, and almost 
happy again. Happy, indeed, are they who can 
content themselves under almost any decree of 
fate, and in that respect he was highly gifted. 

Could he but have known the whereabouts of 
the fair Virginia, known that she had not forgot- 
ten or ceased to love him, his happiness would 
have been complete; still, the strife and turmoil 
of the political battlefield on which he had en- 
tered would suffice to keep his mind and energies 
so occupied for the present that he would have but 
little time in which to mourn for one who had 
deserted him in an hour of trial. 

Now that his fortunes began to take a favorable 
and unexpected turn, ambition superseded the 
unrest of his heart and brain. He resolved to 
make the most of his opportunities and smothered 
his conscience by saying that perhaps he could 
gain power and prestige sufficient to eventually 
overcome religious intolerance by the very force 
of his genius and intellectual power. 

A few days later he attended the State conven- 
tion, and the scene which had taken place at the 
Ford Falls court-house was re-enacted there, only 
on a scale of greater magnitude. It was a notable 
gathering, composed of brilliant men from all 
walks of life and prominent politicians of undis- 
puted ability, many of whom had grown gray in 
the service of their party and never faltered in 
their devotion to its cause; yet curiosity was 
great on every hand to see and hear this gifted 
young orator who had so suddenly leaped to the 
topmost pinnacle of local fame. 


238 Satan of the Modern World. 

It was therefore a proud moment for him as 
he stepped upon the platform, faced the silent, ex- 
pectant and half skeptical throng and gazed out 
over the sea of faces confronting him, some eager 
and expectant, some with a cynical half suppressed 
sneer upon their lips, and still others fearful lest 
he should prove to be a failure and bring down 
upon them the scorn and ridicule of the opposing 
party, and it was there he scored one of the great- 
est triumphs of his life. 

His fame as an orator was purely local, yet those 
who came with him, those who themselves but a 
few days before had been swept away, so to speak, 
by his depth of thought and magnificent flights of 
oratory had no fear that he would disgrace either 
them or the party he represented. 

Reports of his marvelous powers as an orator 
had preceded him to the convention, hut were 
received in the same scoffing spirit with which the 
Old World received the theories of Columbus con- 
cerning the circumnavigation of the globe. They 
doubted not that his ability had been greatly 
overestimated, for they had usually found genius, 
when coming from remote rural districts, not quite 
as great as represented. 

There is an old saying to the effect that “what 
is least expected is always sure to happen,” and 
when his lips parted and the tones of his deep, 
musical voice rang out like a clarion call to 
the farthest corner of that great auditorium, they 
heard some of the deepest and most profound 
thoughts on government fall from his lips that 
were ever evolved, from human brain or illumi- 
nated the soul of man. 


Satan of the Modem World. 239 

As he poured out to them from his storehouse 
of knowledge the choicest and most majestic gems 
of thought, they caught a glimpse of the depth of 
his soul and realized ere an hour had passed that 
he was, not only a deep and thorough student of 
the form of government under which he lived, 
but that of every nation of earth from the present 
back to the most remote antiquity. 

To attempt even a feeble description of the 
scene which followed would be an idle waste of 
words. Still some idea of the effect produced by 
that marvelous outburst of oratory can be gained 
from the fact that no sooner had the scene of 
confusion ended than he was approached by the 
leaders of several delegations and asked if he 
would accept the nomination for Governor of the 
State if tendered by acclamation. He thanked 
them for the compliment, but refused, saying that 
he was the choice of the people of his county for 
Congress, and he would accept the nomination for 
that office if offered, but no other. 

That settled the matter as far as he was con- 
cerned, and when the time came he was chosen 
unanimously, and from that moment it was a 
foregone conclusion that Harry Brown, the bril- 
liant young orator, scholar and statesman who, 
notwithstanding his great talents and popularity, 
preferred the quiet of the country to the bright- 
ness and glamor of the city, would sit in the halls 
of Congress and carve his name high up on the 
scroll of honor beside that of the greatest of the 
world’s statesmen and orators. 


240 Satan of the Modern World. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE OLD, OLD STORY — OF LOVE. 

A week has passed and gone since that mem- 
orable state convention met, and Harry Brown 
is found in that great and progressive metropolis 
of the central west, Chicago. Seeing before him 
a long and vigorous campaign, he thought it nec- 
essary to obtain all the rest possible before he en- 
tered into the great intellectual combat so soon to 
open up before him. 

He had been chosen leader of the delegation 
from his native state which was to attend the na- 
tional convention in Chicago two weeks later, 
therefore he concluded to proceed there at once and 
thus make the trip one of pleasure to himself as 
well as one of duty and profit to his party. 

Pleasure and interest he found there in abun- 
dance, but rest, the principal object of his search, 
was not to be found in Chicago. Everything else 
was there confronting him at every turn, but rest 
there was none. 

The morning of the fourth day after his ar- 
rival he boarded a south side elevated train, and 
twenty minutes later alighted at Jackson Park, 
the one which appeared to him to be the most in- 
teresting on account of the Field Columbian Mu- 
seum located there. 


Satan of the Modern World. 241 

That it would be an interesting day for him, 
ardent lover of nature and enthusiastic philosopher 
as he was, no one can doubt who has passed the 
portals of that noble institution and spent a day 
amid its multitudinous treasures of nature and 
art. ¥0 sooner were the doors thrown open to 
the public than he entered and was soon oblivious 
to the world, with mind lost in reminiscences of 
thought as he trod the stately halls of that noble 
institution. Long and thoughtfully he pored over 
the ancient documents and manuscripts in the first 
apartment to the left of the entrance, how long he 
seemed not to realize, so absorbed was he, and so 
many they, all so quaint, antiquated and interest- 
ing. He was so thorough in his observations and 
so determined to see everything that when at last 
he left the great building and stepped outside, the 
shadows of twilight were beginning to fall over 
the city and the scenery along the shore of the 
lake was too serene and beautiful to pass unno- 
ticed by this ardent lover of nature. Strolling 
leisurely along the shore towards a vacant seat 
beneath a great spreading tree, possibly a hundred 
yards ahead, he had covered perhaps half the dis- 
tance and was gazing idly and dreamily out over 
the broad expanse of waters when suddenly he 
was startled by an exclamation of surprise which 
came from the lips of a lady who was sitting alone 
on a bench close beside him. He heard his name 
called in sweet, familiar tones and, turning to 
see who it was, to his joy and surprise beheld 
a scene that stirred up in his heart a wild com- 
motion like a storm at sea and almost overwhelmed 
him with the strength of his emotion, for there 


242 Satan of the Modem World. 

before him, with the last rays of the setting sun 
streaming through the foliage of the trees upon 
the dark masses of her clustering curls — shedding 
about them a radiance of burnished gold, with 
eyes, form and features more radiantly beautiful 
than ever before, sat the woman he loved, the 
Hypatia of his dreams, the fair young Virginia 
Randolph. 

As he turned towards her, she arose to greet him, 
and the happy smile upon her lips, the look of ten- 
derness shining from the depths of her great dark 
eyes, and the eagerly outstretched hand, all told 
him more eloquently than words could have done 
that she was glad to see him. 

As he pressed the slender hands in his, then sat 
down beside her while the shades of evening were 
deepening around them, a feeling of perfect peace 
and happiness rested upon his heart as once before 
it had in days of old in a far distant village at 
the touch of her hand, the glance from her dark, 
dreamy eyes, or the sound of her soft, musical 
voice. 

“And now tell me what brought you to Chicago, 
Mr. Brown,” she asked, after he had answered 
her many questions concerning her old home. 

“Partly business, partly pleasure,” he answered. 
“Or to be more definite, I should have been com- 
pelled to come here a few days later in the inter- 
ests of my party, or which amounts to the same 
thing, the best interests of the Republic, and con- 
sidering that my life at home has been an ex- 
ceedingly busy one and would be more so if any- 
thing for some months to come, I thought perhaps 
a change would do me good. Therefore I came 


Satan of the Modem World. 243 

to Chicago, where for a few days I could be away 
from all cares and worries of life, away from sad 
thoughts of the past where there were no familiar 
scenes, no familiar faces, no mark of any kind to 
revive sweet memories of other days — days that I 
then thought were passed and gone forever. 

“I wanted to be alone with my thoughts and 
dreams where for a few days in undisturbed men- 
tal harmony I could dream of a world such as 
I have often fancied a world should be. 

“I was chosen to lead the delegation from our 
native state to the convention which meets here in 
a few days, and thinking I could spend the time 
to good advantage, here and around the lake, I 
came two weeks ahead of my fellow delegates for 
that purpose. I had hoped to spend the time pleas- 
antly while here, but am more fortunate that I 
had dreamed of, for the Goddess of Fortune has 
smiled on me again.” 

A faint wave of color tinged her fair cheek for 
an instant, but it did not drive the love light from 
her eyes or the happy smile from her lips. 

“And you, Miss Randolph,” he asked, “may I 
enquire what brought you to Chicago?” She 
smiled and looked dreamily out over the waters. 

“I have been here some time,” she answered, “a 
long, weary time it has sometimes seemed to me, 
though, in fact, it has been but little more than 
five months. What brought me here? Well, Mr. 
Brown, that is a long story, too long to be told in 
detail, even though I cared to repeat it, which I 
do not, for it brings back to me sad memories of 
the past which for long months I have tried to 
blot forever from my life. But, briefly told, 


244 Satan of the Modem World. 

I came to Chicago because it offers me more and 
better advantages than any city in the world, ex- 
cept London ; that is, in certain branches of learn- 
ing.” 

“And may I be so bold as to ask in what particu- 
lar branches you are so deeply interested?” 

“Yes, Mr. Brown, you may be that bold,” she 
answered, laughing. “Generally speaking, it is 
the whole broad field of science and speculative 
philosophy. But to be more definite, it is archae- 
ology, Ancient History and Hieroglyphics, and 
Arabic, both ancient and modern. I spent six 
months in New York, and after exhausting all 
its resources of information, came here to find 
many advantages that the eastern metropolis did 
not have.” 

“I had never supposed, Miss Randolph, that you 
were interested in such deep and profound 
studies,” Harry ventured to remark, after a short 
silence. 

The “maiden was silent and thoughtful for sev- 
eral moments before answering. “Perhaps it 
would be better for me if I were not,” she said, 
“but often there is something in our nature over 
which we have no control. 

“You cannot change the savage nature of the 
lion to the meekness of the lamb, or the eagle’s to 
the gentleness of the dove. You cannot satisfy 
the philosopher’s thirst for knowledge with the 
blood of his fellowman, or the thief’s thirst for 
plunder with a discourse on evolution. So it is 
with me. Philosophy has a fascination for me 
too deep and strong to be resisted, even though I 
knew my efforts would come to naught and my 


Satan of the Modem World. 245 

dreams remain forever unrealized; and, hard as 
it is to satisfy the hunger of my soul, it would be 
harder still to attempt to suppress it entirely.” 

“I believe,” she continued, with growing ear- 
nestness and enthusiasm, while her soul kindled 
and her eyes blazed with the fires of genius, “that 
of all the philosophers who have sought to solve 
the riddle of the past and unravel its mysteries 
one alone has found the key that unlocks its door, 
though his theory of the rise of nations in prehis- 
toric times has gained but little credence. Of course, 
I may be wrong in my theory, and so, in fact may 
he the one from which I drew my inspiration, but 
if the mystery of the past is ever unraveled it 
will not be revealed to us through the Hebrew 
scriptures, the sacred books of the East, or through 
the so-called revelations of the Prophets of Utah, 
Medina or Judea, but the medium through 
'which it must be traced slowly and care- 
fully, step by step through a dim and misty past 
is ancient Arabic, which must be deciphered by 
means of a thorough knowledge of modern Arabic, 
Chaldean and Egyptian hieroglyphics. 

“I believe that all the great civilizations of the 
past had a common prehistoric origin; that is to 
say, the Egyptian, Chaldean and Phoenician mon- 
archies were the outgrowth of colonies which came 
from one great and mighty race, a race that had 
attained a high and splendid state of civilization, 
and was hoary with age — so old in fact that it 
was in the last stages of disintegration when they 
were born. I believe it to have been an empire so 
vast that it covered not only the entire southern 
part of Asia and Europe and the northern part of 


246 Satan of the Modern IVVorld. 

Africa, but I will make a still bolder statement 
and say that it did not stop there, but extended 
beyond the Pillars of Hercules, and there on the 
continent known to tradition as Atlantis reached 
the highest plane of civilization ever reached by 
any race of the past. I believe it was contempo- 
raneous with — if not in fact as the future may 
yet reveal — the same race whose ruins are found in 
Central America. 

“Could we but decipher the Central American 
inscriptions we would find there the key that opens 
the door of the past and reveals to us the long lost 
history of Atlantis and Ethiopia ; but the Sphinx 
was never more silent than they. 

“That, Mr. Brown, is what brought me to Chi- 
cago, a search for knowledge. For five months X 
have haunted the libraries and museums in search 
of anything that would shed even a ray of light on 
the past. When I have completed my researches 
here I shall go to London and study there the 
Chaldean Cuniform writings, not so much to gain 
an accurate knowledge of Chaldean history as to 
compare them with the Egyptian and Central 
American hieroglyphics and satisfy my mind as 
to whether any kinship exists between them and 
the few fragments of ancient Arabic still extant. 
When that has been accomplished I doubt not 
that my dream of life will be rudely ended and 
all hopes of solving the problem shattered, for 
the next step would take me to the central part of 
Arabia, where I believe the key of mystery is to 
be found which will unlock the door of the past 
and admit us to its storehouse of wonders. 

“I have thoroughly mastered Arabic, modern, 


Satan of the Modem World. 247 

and comparatively ancient, and believe myself 
capable of deciphering the most ancient inscrip- 
tions wherever found ; yet with all my knowledge I 
fear my efforts will come to naught. A man of 
genius and indomitable courage, highly gifted 
with perseverance and determination to succeed, 
were he willing to sacrifice everything, even to 
life itself, could undoubtedly accomplish the task 
I have set before myself, but alas, I am not a 
man.” 

There was a touch of pathos in her voice as she 
ceased speaking, the fires of genius that had 
kindled in her soul until her eyes glowed with a 
strange and wondrous beauty slumbered again 
and she gazed dreamily and half sadly across 
the waters to where a white sail loomed up through 
the deepening shadows. 

There was a long silence, during which Harry, 
too, sat buried in deep thought. 

Deep and profound as was his own soul, he was 
yet scarcely able to comprehend the depth of hers 
who sat beside him, so beautiful and serene in the 
purity of her life, so young in years, yet so old 
in thought. He had loved her before she left the 
village and hard as he had tried to banish her 
from his thoughts and that love from his life 
forever, it had survived all disappointments and 
regrets and burned now in his heart with tenfold 
brightness. 

That she, too, had loved him then he knew full 
well ; but was that love dead ? Did she love 
him now as he loved her, or had she crushed 
it from her heart by the force of her wilj 
as she had no doubt tried to do? He scanned 


248 Satan of the Modern World. 

her face closely, but could find no trace of sorrow 
there. Instinctively she turned and met his gaze, 
her whole soul shining out through her soft dark 
eyes, and that glance, short and fleeting though it 
was, told him that his love was not in vain. 

Never again would he delay the happy hour in 
which she would speak to him the sweetest words 
that e’er fell from human lips, he would decide 
his fate that very night, nay, that very moment. 

“Virginia,” he said, and his deep, grave tones 
fell softly and musically on her listening ear, 
“for long months before you left the village there 
was something on my mind, something near and 
dear to my heart of which I had longed to tell 
you since first our eyes met in the old village 
church. From that very moment, Virginia, I 
have loved you, loved you fondly, truly and pas- 
sionately. Day after day and month after month 
it has burned within my breast with undiminished 
brightness, and to-night is a stronger, purer and 
holier love than ever before. Your eyes had often 
told me that the words of love that were ever upon 
my lips would not be spoken in vain, but the great 
love and respect I bore for you bade me wait un- 
til we became better acquainted, and time had 
given you a better opportunity of judging whether 
I was worthy of your love or not. The weeks of 
summer glided by and lengthened into months 
and with each passing day my love grew stronger, 
fonder and more unselfish. * The golden days of 
autumn came, filling the world with soft, mellow 
beauty, and then I deemed the time had come for 
me to speak, but just as I was about to tell you 


Satan of the Modern World. 249 

kindled in my breast for you and filled my life 
with happiness for long months past a mind dis- 
ordered by selfishness, superstition and envy 
sought to accomplish my ruin and again I held 
my peace until the storms of fanaticism should 
subside and our surroundings become calm and 
peaceful once more. 

“But when the tempest was over I found myself 
as deserted and alone as though cast up on a lonely 
rock in the midst of an unknown sea. The 
woman I loved was gone, whither I knew not, 
and those who but a few days before were 
most effusive in their praises and seeming adora- 
tion shunned me as though I were a poisonous ser- 
pent. Deserted by the woman I loved and shunned 
by all my fellow beings, I could only sit by my 
own fireside, sad and alone, and think of the 
happy days gone by, days which I then thought 
were passed and gone forever. Ah! what a sad 
and bitter period of life that was to me. The fu- 
ture held out to me no hope, the past but the 
memory of a hopeless love. 

“Throughout the long weary weeks and months 
that have passed since then I have tried to crush 
that love from my heart, tried to forget the sweet, 
sad memories of the past, but my efforts were of 
no avail. Sleeping or waking the memory of those 
delightful summer hours would come before me, 
lifting me at times to the mountain tops of hope 
only to plunge me again to the bottomless pit of 
human despair. But now that I see you before me 
again, the same pure, sweet and noble soul, hope 
has been kindled in my heart anew and burns 
as brightly as my love, and speak I must 


250 Satan of the Modem World. 

before it is once more too late. Before we part to- 
night, before the great city yonder swallows us up 
and separates me from the woman I love I must 
know my fate. Do you love me, Virginia ?” 

From the water she turned her eyes to his and 
met them in a soft, steady gaze. “Yes, Harry/” 
she answered, and her voice mingled in strange 
sweetness with the murmuring tide, "I love you. 
I love you to-day, and it is the same enduring 
love that was born in my heart when first our eyes 
met in the far away village church.” 

“And you will marry me?” he asked, in eager, 
trembling tones. 

“Perhaps, Harry,” she answered, while a 
strange smile played for an instant about her rich, 
red lips, “but before I can answer that question 
I must first ask one of you. They tell me that you 
have become famous of late, that you are the fore- 
most man in the political affairs of the state, 
your fame has spread throughout all the land, 
and what is more surprising still, you are a social 
leader in the affairs of the village once more. 

“All this, considering your talents, is but as it 
should be; but why this sudden change? This 
fame, popularity and success, unequaled by any 
of our native state was, I understand, made pos- 
sible by a profession of Christianity on your part. 
The privilege of being a Christian I freely accord 
every one and respect them no more or less for it, 
that is, provided it is a sincere one. But before 
I can answer your question, Harry, this much I 
must know, was that profession made in a sincere 
spirit? Was it an honest one?” 

“No,” he answered boldly and without a mo- 


Satan of the Modern World. 251 

ment’s hesitation, “it was not, and never could 
have been in my case. I professed Christianity, 
not that I believed it to be a true faith, but be- 
cause I was at that time a social outcast, a mon- 
ster in the eyes of those to whom I was devoting 
my life, my energies and wealth, that life to them 
might be brighter and happier. I made a false 
profession of faith because as an honest man I 
was despised for not believing as the world would 
have me believe and cast out when I should have 
been honored for my true manhood and the purity 
of my life. But when I had lost my self-respect, 
sold my manhood, so to speak, for the paltry price 
of the world’s opinion, again I became an object 
of flattery and applause, and at my feet were laid 
the fairest gifts of earth.” 

“Was it to satisfy an ambition, was it a longing 
for fame and power that caused you to take that 
step?” she asked. 

“No,” he continued, with the same frankness 
of manner, “it was not. I had need of no more 
wealth, no desire for fame and power, and no am- 
bition in life other than to gain happiness for my- 
self and add to that of others as far as lay within 
my power. True, I was tempted in a feeble way, but 
the step was taken merely to satisfy my mind as 
to which the world honored most, an honest skep- 
tic or a religious hypocrite. Painful as was the 
truth, I was not long in finding it out and man- 
kind stood lower in my estimation as a result of 
the experiment than ever before. The step was 
easily taken, but with the changed conditions 
which followed in its wake was hard to retrace.” 

He then related to her the particulars of his 


252 Satan of the Modern World 

dream, the influence it had thrown around his 
life, and how her long-continued silence had con- 
tributed greatly to the decision which he had 
eventually made. “When I saw the ideals of my 
life so rudely shattered and lying in broken frag- 
ments at my feet,” he continued, “I then deter- 
mined to learn if the world really had a price to 
offer me in exchange for my soul.” 

“And so they offered you a seat in Congress to 
begin with,” said the maiden, smiling ; “but do you 
think the reward sufficiently large, Harry, to repay 
you for the loss of your soul ?” 

“I am undecided as to that,” he returned, with 
an answering smile. “Sometimes I think the 
whole universe would be but a paltry price when 
offered in exchange for one’s soul, and then, again, 
when I have thought of the miserly rewards of- 
fered for virtue, I have concluded that it doesn’t 
make much difference one way or the other.” 

“But do you really care about representing 
your district in Congress?” she asked, seriously. 

“Well, it is a high honor,” he admitted in a 
tone not wholly devoid of ambition, “and could I 
gain it by means which my conscience would ap- 
prove as being honorable and just, I do not deny 
but that I would care very much indeed. But 
how can it be gained by honorable means when 
there are none within my reach ? Everything and 
everybody stands opposed to it, while I abhor my- 
self and the whole affair and shall take advantage 
of the very first opportunity and renounce forever 
a political career and all ambition for such.” 

“I shall be glad if you do that, Harry,” she said, 
softly. 




Satan of the Modern World. 253 

“Why ?” he asked, looking up in surprise. 

“Because, Harry/’ and the low, sweet tones of 
her voice fell upon his ear sweeter than the sweet- 
est song e’er sung by mortal tongue, “because then 
I’ll marry you.” 

One swift, fleeting glance around told him that 
there was nothing but the deepening shadows 
near, then he clasped her to his breast with a low, 
happy laugh. 

A look of perfect peace and contentment came 
over her beautiful face as she laid her head lov- 
ingly on his shoulder and smiled up at him. For 
a long time they remained silent, each too happy 
to speak. Then the long silence was broken at 
length by Virginia’s saying: “Perhaps, after all, 
Harry, they’ll elect you.” 

“Why, sweetheart,” he asked, in laughing sur- 
prise, “are you growing ambitious, too?” 

“Yes, I will admit that I am,” she replied, 
gazing fondly into his eyes, “that is, when it is 
your welfare that is concerned! I am justly 
proud of you, Harry, proud of your talents and the 
brilliant record you have made in your short ca- 
reer, and would gladly see you given a broader 
field of opportunity such as your abilities entitle 
you that you might perpetuate and add to the 
fame you have honestly won. Still, I should pre- 
fer that you come out before the world in your true 
light before election, and tell the people of your 
honest convictions; then if you succeed, well and 
good. Your fame and prestige will be all the 
more secure and tenfold greater; but if not, you 
have then won my respect as well as my love, and 
that/’ she added, with a happy smile, “may, to a 


;2^4 Satan of the Modem World 

certain extent, compensate yon for the loss of 
worldly honors.” 

“And that, Virginia,” he answered, as he bent 
and kissed her warm, red lips, “is worth more to 
me than the whole universe besides. Still, I will 
do as yon say, sweet one. I will make an early and 
vigorous campaign, I will canvass the district and 
sound popular opinion as thoroughly as possible, 
and when the highest pitch of enthusiasm has 
been reached, will announce my position and lay 
before them their choice. Who can tell what the 
end may yet be ? 

“It is an opportunity of a lifetime, and upon it I 
will stake my reputation, my life and my hopes. 
At a decisive moment, by a bold stroke of genius, I 
may yet wrest the prize from them by the very 
audacity of the stroke, and philosophy may after 
all triumph over bigotry.” 

“I hear, too, that you are to place the name of a 
distinguished eastern Senator before the conven- 
tion as a candidate for the presidency,” resumed 
the maiden after another- long pause. “Is that 
correct ?” 

“Hot exactly,” was the reply. “I was requested 
to do so, but my convictions would not allow me 
to comply with the request, therefore I was com- 
pelled to decline the honor, for, until the ma- 
jority decides otherwise I can support none other 
than the present incumbent of office. His admin- 
istration has been a remarkably brilliant and suc- 
cessful one, and not to renominate him (which is 
equivalent to a re-election), would be in my 
opinion, a national disgrace. There may be 
better and more able men in the land, but never 


Satan of the Modern World. 255 

before has one in the same position discharged 
his duty more faithfully and impartially than he, 
and such honesty and fidelity to his country ought 
to be rewarded with another term, to say the least.” 

“And I fully agree with you, Harry,” was the 
ready answer, “and if you were in favor of sup- 
porting another, I should consider it my duty to 
try and persuade you from doing so, therefore you 
see, I, too, might be a power in politics. Still, I 
shall be somewhat disappointed, for I shall not 
have the pleasure of hearing your voice in the con- 
vention,” she added regretfully. 

“If you are there you most assuredly will, my 
gentle maid,” he answered, “for I have been chosen 
by the national committee as the one most fitting 
to second the name of the President for renomina- 
tion, and have the high honor of asking that it be 
made by acclamation.” 

“And you will make a great speech, Harry?” 
she asked eagerly, her eyes blazing with enthu- 
siasm. 

Laughing softly at her earnestness, he modestly 
replied : 

“I cannot say that it will be anything great, 
but I can positively assure you that it will be 
the greatest effort of my life. But, let us 
forget the great world, with its joys and sorrows, 
its hopes and disappointments for the time being 
and think only of ourselves. Tell me, Virginia, 
why did you go away from the village so suddenly, 
deserting me, if I may so speak, when I most 
needed a friend, leaving me with every reason to 
suppose that you, too, condemned my course?” 

The smile faded from her lips as he asked the 


256 Satan of the Modern World. 

question, and again she looked dreamily and sadly 
out across the dark waters. 

“Alas, it was the old struggle between love and 
duty, as my duty appeared to me,” she answered 
softly ; “love for you and duty to my aged 
parents. 

“It was not that they were in ignorance of your 
true belief previous to that time, but so long as 
there was nothing said which would arouse the 
prejudice and antagonism of the people they were 
content, and in spite of the wide difference exist- 
ing between their theology and your philosophy of 
life they loved you as though you were their own 
child and hoped the day would be not far distant 
in which they could lavish their love on you as 
such in reality. 

“Consequently, when the peaceful serenity of that 
dream was interrupted, it plunged them into a 
world of anxiety and doubt. Notwithstanding 
the fact that the gulf which separated you from 
them theologically had widened, they loved you 
as fondly as before and would have sanctioned 
my marriage with you whom the whole village con- 
demned, even knowing that it would place them 
under the same ban of censure, for, rather than 
interfere with my happiness, they were willing to 
sacrifice the respect and good will of the world. 

“I could not bear to see a misfortune so great 
come to them in the autumn of their life, and to 
avoid that alone I left the village, intending to 
devote the remainder of my life to philosophical 
research. But that is all of the past, and now that 
we have met again, now that you have regained 
your popularity and your fame has become so 


Satan of the Modem World. 257 

great, I know of nothing that will give them more 
happiness than to see us both back in our quiet 
homes, soon to be happily married, and should the 
fickle world renounce you again I doubt not but 
that they will think the same as I, that is, that 
such a world should in turn be renounced forever.” 

“And the life you were going to devote to phi- 
losophy, how about that, my fair maid ?” he asked, 
banteringly. 

A ripple of merry laughter broke from the 
maiden’s lips. “My dream of life is ended and 
my idols shattered,” she answered with a sigh, 
“and as for my trip to Arabia I shall postpone it 
indefinitely. ’Tis too bad, too, for I was a prom- 
ising student. Had I never met you again I 
should, in all probability, have been eating my 
Christmas dinner in London; but life seems al- 
together different now that you are by my side. 
It is useless to fight against my life’s happiness 
even though I cared to do so, which I do not, 
for I passed through one dark and bitter period 
of life struggling against it and that one is 
enough. My noblest ambition in life now, Harry, 
is to be your wife and live a quiet, peaceful 
life at Maple Lawn, and if possible, complete 
the work we began at the village a few months 
ago. But I am afraid we are forgetting some- 
thing, that is that time does not stand still at 
love’s bidding, and unless we want to walk back 
to the city we had better be going, for the cars 
will stop running in another hour. I am living 

with my aunt at 1121 Avenue, and if you 

will call there at noon to-morrow, after lunch I 


258 Satan of the Modern World. 

will take you to my favorite haunt, the Academy 
of Sciences at Lincoln Park.” 

A clock in some distant tower was striking the 
hour of ten as the happy lovers rose from the seat 
and wended their way, slowly (as lovers always 
do), towards the south end of the park, where they 
boarded a downtown elevated train. 

Soon they were swallowed up in the heart of 
the great city and a happier man than Harry 
Brown, as he stopped in front of her aunt’s home 
and stole a parting kiss from Virginia’s smiling 
lips, then strolled away with a softly spoken 
“good-night, Harry,” ringing in his ears, has yet 
to tread the earth. 


Satan of the Modem World. 259 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE NATIONAL CONVENTION. 

The remainder of the time spent by Harry 
Brown in Chicago were days of continual and 
unmarred bliss. Each succeeding day brought 
with it new pleasures and new joys, with no dark 
cloud above the horizon of his life to mar the per- 
fect peace and happiness that had settled down in 
his heart once more. 

The convention came and passed into history 
as all conventions must, and in one brief hour 
Harry Brown had leaped from local to the top- 
most pinnacle of national fame. His name was 
now no longer known and honored only in the 
humble village far hack among the rural districts 
of Vermont, but was on every tongue and was 
heralded abroad throughout every city, village and 
hamlet of the land as the man of the hour, the com- 
ing statesman in whom even the greatest had 
found a peer. 

But the convention, notable as it was, was an 
exceptionally short one. The first day was 
spent in organizing, and part of the second in 
making complimentary speeches, while the com- 
mittee prepared the platform which was adopted 
as read without a single dissenting vote. Just 


260 Satan of the Modem World. 


before the close of the second day a noted orator 
from one of the middle western states arose and 
at the close of a long oration placed the name 
of the President before the convention for re- 
nomination. 

It was a masterly effort, an eloquent plea for 
national expansion and a noble tribute to the 
character of the executive, a tribute of which any- 
one might be justly proud, and was received by 
the numerous delegations with great demonstra- 
tions of enthusiasm. From the effect produced by 
that speech it was easily to be seen at its close that 
the end of the convention was near, also what 
the end would be. As only a few hours more 
would be required in which to complete the work 
of the convention, a motion was made and carried 
that the body adjourn until the following day. 

The opening speech of the third day was the 
one in which Harry was to second the name of the 
President for renomination, and there was a vast 
amount of curiosity manifest among the different 
delegations, as well as in the galleries as to who 
and what this boyish-looking orator was and why 
he had been chosen to such high honors when there 
were multitude of older and no doubt more able 
men from whom to choose, men who had proven 
their ability and loyalty time and again, and who 
now quite naturally felt that an injustice had been 
done them in choosing one who was entirely un- 
known outside of his native state. But throughout 
all this period of doubt and curiosity the delega- 
tion from Vermont sat in their corner with a se- 
rene and happy expression on their faces, and 
the happier they looked to be the more the people 


Satan of the Modern World. 261 

wondered if this was another “boy orator of the 

Would there be another “cross of gold” and 
“crown of thorns” hurled at them with the reck- 
lessness of despair? Would he be the man with 
the pitchfork — the hoe? Or what would be the 
sensation of the hour? A report was going the 
rounds that he had been chosen to deliver the prin- 
cipal oration of the convention on account of the 
services he had rendered the party in suppressing 
what might have been a very formidable secession 
of eastern delegations in favor of a popular sena- 
tor from that section of the country. 

Curiosity was then wrought up to a still higher 
pitch, for when, where, and how, had one of 
whom they had never even heard before gained 
such great and sudden power that whole delega- 
tions bowed before his mandate ? The less the peo- 
ple knew the more they wanted to know, but no 
one could be found who knew more than they, 
and thus the curiosity of the curious grew. The 
doors had been thrown open early, but the people 
were there earlier still, each one determined to 
be first, but there were thousands of firsts, conse- 
sequently, some of the first arrivals found them- 
selves a block away from the much coveted door 
with a solid mass of humanity covering the in- 
tervening space. 

The doors opened at last, the great sea of hu- 
manity flowed into the mighty building, and half 
an hour later standing room was not to be had at 
any price. In the gallery in a front seat sat 
Virginia and her aunt, they having entered early 
through a private entrance, and as Harry arose 


262 Satan of the Modern World. 


in the midst of a silence like that of death to as- 
cend the platform he caught a glimpse of her 
white and anxious face watching him with in- 
tense eagerness and expectation, and he returned 
her nod of recognition with a reassuring smile. 

As he stood there before that mighty and ex- 
pectant throng, one of the largest ever addressed 
by an orator, he was to all except his own delega- 
tion and the woman, who, with white face and 
anxious eyes was watching him from the gallery, 
unknown and unhonored. Half an hour later he 
left it the foremost man of the nation, the idol of 
his party, and with the wild applause of fifty 
thousand people ringing in his ears. 

He began to speak in a clear, calm tone, which 
gradually gained in strength as he proceeded, un- 
til it rang out clear and cold as a trumpet call 
and was heard plainly and distinctly to the far- 
thermost corner of that mighty auditorium, while 
his eyes lit up and blazed with the fires of genius 
that burned in his soul. He began by paying a 
worthy tribute to the great party leaders of the 
past who for a century and more had borne their 
stainless banner through many a hard-fought 
political campaign, leaders who had never fal- 
tered in their devotion to their party, their coun- 
try, or their flag. 

“He was proud, : ” he said, “to belong to a party 
upon whose scroll of honor were written the names 
of Hamilton, Clay, Webster, Lincoln and Blaine,” 
and recounted briefly the heroic deeds that had been 
achieved in war and in peace, saying that the party 
to which he owed his allegiance was the one and 
the only one that had guided the ship of state 


Satan of the Modem World. 263 

safely through all the long and bloody wars in 
which the nation had become involved. 

“Other parties can plunge the nation into war,” 
he said, “but the Grand Old Party alone can 
save it from destruction.” 

He then dwelt briefly on the question of Social- 
ism, “A problem which more than any other is 
agitating the mind of man in the opening days of 
the twentieth century. Socialism,” he said, “while 
it appeals to the poor and unsuccessful of every 
land, is one of the most dangerous, delusive and 
serious of all the problems on which humanity has 
been called to pronounce its judgment, a politi- 
cal dogma which if successful would ultimately 
result in the downfall of civilization, if not the 
destruction of the race as well.” 

Having thus rendered his respects to Social- 
ism, he then paid a glowing tribute to the char- 
acter of the President and the splendid services 
he had rendered this country in guiding the ship 
of state safely through one brief war, and in the 
effort he was making towards a speedy suppres- 
sion of the insurrection in the islands of the Far 
East, which was being done, not by brutal meth- 
ods, but with a view of doing justice to the Fili- 
pino, the civilized world, and without the sacri- 
fice of our national pride and honor. 

He dwelt briefly on the changed conditions of 
the country, the benefits that had come to each 
and all in every walk of life since the present 
administration came into power, and brought his 
address to a close with an eloquent plea that the 
same administration be retained in power and 
asked that the President be renominated by ac- 


264 Satan of the Modern World. 

clamation. At the close of his eloquent and mas- 
terly oration he left the platform amid the great- 
est outburst of genuine enthusiasm ever witnessed 
since that memorable event in Cincinnati some 
twenty years before when the greatest orator of 
all times presented the name of the “Plumed 
Knight” for consideration. 

As no other names were presented for consid- 
eration, a vote was called, and such an answering 
shout of “ayes” as went up from every throat suf- 
ficed to tell Harry Brown that his plea had not 
been made in vain. Almost before the excitement 
which followed the announcement that the Presi- 
dent had been renominated had died away, this 
boyish-looking orator was approached by the lead- 
ers of several delegations and asked if he would 
accept the nomination as a candidate for Vice- 
President, if offered by acclamation. 

His heart swelled high with pride at the com- 
pliment thus paid him and for a moment he hesi- 
tated and was undecided. Then he thought of the 
complications which would follow and put the 
temptation aside. He thanked them for the gen- 
erosity of their offer, but positively declined to 
take the matter under consideration. Then they 
tried persuasion, but finding that of no avail, re- 
turned to the platform and reported that another 
candidate must be found, which was by no means 
a difficult matter, for most men there were willing 
candidates, even for the Vice-Presidential chair. 

The convention was over at last, there was a 
wild outburst of enthusiasm, a grand rush to 
where the speaker sat — but let us draw a curtain 
over the convention hall and the scene that was 


Satan of the Modern World. 265 

enacted there. It was but a repetition of former 
scenes, only on a grander scale, a demonstration 
of deep and heartfelt enthusiasm that had been 
stirred in their breasts by as deep and profound 
utterances as ever fell from the lips of man. 

In one brief hour he had gained a national 
reputation which was fairly won and proved to 
the assembled thousands, that boyish looking 
though he was, he had yet one of the master minds 
of the twentieth century and could if he chose 
take his place in the foremost rank of statesmen, 
philosophers and scholars. As he came out of the 
convention hall Virginia was awaiting him, and 
clasping both his hands in hers, she gazed into his 
eyes with loving fondness while her heart was 
too full of happiness to speak. Her eyes were 
brimming with tears of joy and the look of fond 
affection that shone from their depths was far 
more dear to him than the applause and gratitude 
of a great and mighty nation. 

A week and a half now remained to him ere 
he began his campaign, and that week and a half 
was to him a period of pure ethereal happiness. 

Accompanied by Virginia and her worthy aunt, 
he crossed the lake and spent a day among the vine- 
yards of Benton Harbor, then proceeded on a de- 
lightful northern trip as far north as Mackinac 
Island, where they were to part for a few short 
weeks. Each in after years looked back upon this 
trip as the happiest and most delightful voyage of 
their life, and who can doubt but that it was ? If 
there is one, let us believe that he has never yet 
sat on a moonlight deck in mid July, side by side 
with a maiden he adored and a sweet-faced, white- 


266 Satan of the Modem World. 


haired lady sitting near, (not too near, of course), 
and as the words of love fall softly and sweetly 
on the ear, a whispered echo is answered back from 
the silvery waves below. 

After a lingering farewell and a promise from 
Virginia of a speedy return to the village, he took 
his departure for his native state to make his en- 
try into the great strife of politics, the last of the 
nineteenth century, and one that would decide 
whether the flag would remain triumphant and 
unstained wherever it had been unfurled to the 
breeze, and which would rule his native state, phi- 
losophy or bigotry. 


Satan of the Modern World. 26 7 


CHAPTER XVI. 

GET THEE BEHIND ME, SATAN. 

The fame which Harry Brown had acquired at 
the great national convention as an orator, states- 
man and philosopher, had spread through the en- 
tire land, to every city, village and hamlet, to 
every highway and byway, and no where did it 
arouse greater enthusiasm, or cause more genu- 
ine heartfelt rejoicing than in his own state, and 
especially so in his own immediate neighborhood. 
His name was upon every tongue and wherever 
he went his coming was hailed with demonstra- 
tions of enthusiasm and delight, and his popular- 
ity was manifest by the monster crowds which 
greeted him at every station along the route as 
he journeyed home from the convention. 

He was spoken of as the man of the hour, the 
coming statesman, a profound political philoso- 
pher whose name would some day be written on 
the scroll of fame beside that of Hamilton, Lin- 
coln and Blaine. 

Weary from the journey and the noisy clamor 
of the populace who gave him no rest night or 
day along the road, he was glad when the village 
was reached at last, for there at least rest would 
be awaiting him. But there was no rest for him 


268 Satan of the Modem World. 

there, neither in the sleepy village or at peaceful 
Maple Lawn. As he stepped from the train he 
began to understand how really great his prestige 
was and how hopeless it would be for him to ex- 
pect rest at home, for enthusiasm in that humble 
village was far in excess of any he had met with 
elsewhere. 

His fellow delegates, who had returned long 
before him, had never tired of telling of the speech 
he had made, and the great wave of popular en- 
thusiasm that had swept over the convention at 
its close, consequently by the time the object of 
all this flattery and applause arrived at the village 
the people were wrought up to the highest pitch 
of excitement possible. The village band and a 
brass band that had been imported from a neigh- 
boring town came to the train to meet him, and a 
rousing reception was tendered which ended with 
a banquet at the Randolph homestead. 

Two days later he started on his campaign tour, 
making a thorough canvass of the entire district, 
visiting all the cities and towns and nearly all 
the villages. A more successful and triumphant 
tour than that had never been made by a candidate 
of any party for any office, and wherever he 
went the greatest enthusiasm prevailed. From far 
and near the people came to see him and listen to 
the music of his voice, his incomparable eloquence 
and invincible arguments. So magnetic was his 
genius, so marvelous was the power of his oratory, 
and so great the admiration and appreciation of 
the people who came to hear him, that it was the 
inevitable conclusion of friend and foe alike that 
he would poll almost the entire vote of the district. 


Satan of the Modern World. 269 

After an absence of six weeks, during which he 
had spoken to every man, woman and child in 
the district, he returned home and was overjoyed 
at finding a note awaiting him from Virginia, 
stating that she was home and requesting him 
to call at his earliest convenience. This he lost no 
time in doing and was greeted by the Judge and 
Mrs. Randolph with all the affection they could 
have bestowed on a son of their own flesh and 
blood. Virginia had informed them of their meet- 
ing in Chicago and their subsequent engagement, 
and it brought equally as much happiness into the 
lives of her parents as it had to hers, and the 
welcome extended to their new-found son was 
heartfelt and true. 

The following evening a universal pilgrimage 
was made from the village to Maple Lawn, where 
a banquet was spread and a grand reception given. 
On their arrival the people gathered in a great 
multitude on the lawn and demanded a speech, a 
speech they would have and nothing but a speech 
would satisfy them. Tired and worn out as he was 
with his long campaign, he was yet in no mood to 
refuse, for their loyalty and devotion to his cause 
touched him to the heart as nothing else could 
have done. He spoke to them, not as he had 
spoken to the great assemblages in other places 
but as a prophet in the midst of his own people. 

In the few words addressed to them he made 
a deep and fervent plea for true manhood and 
good citizenship, urged them to uphold manhood 
and honor when and wherever found and to 
judge men, not by the words of the mouth, but 
by the fruits of their lives, quoting the words of 


2jo Satan of the Modem World. 

Christ as a standard by which men should be 
judged, “By their fruits ye shall know them.” 

Many eyes were dim and misty with tears, many 
hearts were sad at the pathos of his voice, and 
there were still a few others who realized that the 
words he had uttered did not express his full 
meaning, and were but the forerunner of others 
yet to be spoken. 

He closed his brief address with the statement 
that the freedom of the place was theirs and for 
as many as possible to repair at once to the dining- 
room, there to make haste and clear the way for 
the multitude yet to come. This done he for once 
in his life allowed his selfishness to assert itself, 
and leaving his large company of friends to amuse 
themselves as best they could under the Judge’s 
care, he devoted the remainder of the evening to 
his betrothed. He showed her all the beauties of 
his home, to which she was a visitor for the first 
time, the splendid library, the great collection of 
specimens and the painting of the fair young 
Hypatia, whose features so strangely resembled 
her own. Then they strolled out over the lawn, 
and in the soft, dreamy moonlight viewed the 
beautiful landscape scene across the valley to 
where the snow-capped peak of Mt. Fleecer tow- 
ered high in the distance, white and resplendent 
in its moonlight glory. Through the open doors 
and windows of the dining-room came the laugh- 
ter and jests of the villagers, but out there alone 
and undisturbed amid the flowers and soft, dreamy 
beauties of the moonlight night stood the two hap- 
piest mortals in the wide, wide world. 

“This, my fair young philosopher,” said Harry, 


Satan of the Modern World. 271 

in deep, tremulous tones, as he wound his arm 
around the waist of the slender, graceful form be- 
side him, “is your future home. Do you like it?” 

“It is beautiful, Harry,” she answered, smiling 
sweetly, “more beautiful than a poet’s dream; and 
yet ’tis no more beautiful than I should have ex- 
pected, knowing it was designed and executed by 
you. That tiny lake and park across the way has 
no equal in this world as a spot of beauty, and the 
mountain scene in the distance is sublime and im- 
posing in its solemn grandeur.” 

“I am glad you like it, my gentle maid,” he re- 
plied, “for it may yet be a haven of rest to us, a 
refuge from the storms and temptations of life.” 

A look of intense sadness came over the maid- 
en’s face as he ceased speaking. “When do you 
speak the fatal word, Harry, if such I may call 
it?” 

“Saturday,” he answered, “and I hardly know 
whether I will be sorry or glad if they cast me 
out again. But you, my sweet Virginia,” he con- 
tinued, almost pleadingly, “you will not forget me 
and cast me cruelly aside, even though a cold and 
heartless world should do so?” 

She laid her white hands on his shoulders, and 
there was a light shining from the depths of her 
soft, dreamy, and gloriously beautiful eyes that 
told him of a pure and immortal love. 

“Harry,” she said, and her voice thrilled every 
fiber of his being, so intensely earnest was its 
tone, “ ‘heaven and earth may pass away,’ but long 
as life shall last I shall never forget you or cast 
you aside. Long as yonder noble mountain shall 
lift its bold outlines against the morning sky 


2jz Satan of the Modem World. 

no man shall find a truer and more faithful 
friend that I will he to you. 

“The drops of water that sparkle in yonder crys- 
tal stream are no more pure and lasting than the 
love I bear for you. No matter, Harry, what the 
world may say, no matter if men scorn, despise 
and cast you out from their social life, that love 
will endure until the end of time. Wherever you 
go I will cling to you, and wherever you make your 
home, there, too, my home will be. Should fate 
decree that this shall indeed be a refuge to us far 
from the storms and mad passions of the world, 
far from the lust for fame and power, it will be 
a heavenly home to me.” 

He made no reply, for his heart was too full for 
words. Their lips met in a long, lingering kiss, 
and in silence they walked back to the porch, 
where half an hour later the Judge found them, 
and announced that all hands had been fed except 
himself and wife, and that they would like com- 
pany, unless, of course, they two preferred remain- 
ing out on the porch all night, adding as they arose 
to follow him that love with him had at one time 
been sufficient to sustain life, but now he required 
stronger diet. The great crowd had gone, the last 
sounds of revelry had died away on the stillness 
of the night air, and the small party remaining 
under the roof of Maple Lawn was the happiest 
and most merry ever gathered together in the 
name of love. 

But in spite of love time passes on, “a way,” as 
Artemus Ward says, “time has of doing” and 
Saturday came at last. Saturday that marked the 
beginning of a memorable and never-to-be-forgot- 


Satan of the Modern World. 273 

ten epoch in the history of the village. It was to 
be a day of great festivities, the Stars and Stripes 
were to be raised upon the village common, after 
which there would be an old-fashioned barbecue, 
in turn to be followed by the crowning feature of 
the day, an address by the popular young nominee 
for Congress. 

The one time sleepy old village had witnessed 
many strange scenes, and had been the center of 
many notable gatherings during the past year, 
but never before or since had there been one that 
approached in magnitude the one which gathered 
there that day. Almost the entire population of 
Ford Falls came over to join in the celebration, 
whole villages came from other sections, while 
from the rural districts they came from every di- 
rection from a distance of miles and miles away. 
It stated on the posters scattered about, and quite 
truthfully, too, it proved to be, that the oration 
would be the crowning feature of the day. It 
was more than that. It was the crowning feature 
of the brilliant career of a brave man who refused 
to be a mental serf and that day threw down the 
gantlet to the hosts of superstition and triumphed 
over bigotry as no man ever triumphed before, 
for it was a triumph followed by the love and life- 
long devotion of the people. 

Out on the village common, out in the free and 
open air of nature where the mellow rays of the 
golden autumn sun warmed the earth into a scene 
of wondrous beauty was heard one of the most 
masterly orations, one of the most fervent pleas 
that ever fell from the lips of man; and it was 
there that Harry Brown achieved that success of 


274 Satan of the Modern World. 

which he had often dreamed — success for which 
great men in the past had sacrificed their lives 
in vain — and won for himself immortal fame. 
There, in the very heart of Puritanism, for the 
first time in the history of the world, philosophy 
triumphed over bigotry, and as far as that sec- 
tion of the country was concerned, the power of 
the church over the mind of man was shattered 
and broken forever. 

He had chosen this occasion as the one on which 
to denounce the dogmatic world as the creator 
and harbinger of evil, hypocrisy and fraud, the 
destroyer of true and noble manhood, and he 
proved not only equal to the task but a complete 
master of the situation as well. He preferred to 
make this announcement early in the campaign 
that in case they should cast him out, as he fully 
expected them to do, there would remain ample 
time in which to choose another in his place. 

Himself, he was willing to sacrifice on the 
altar of bigotry, but not his party on which he be- 
lieved the honor and welfare of the nation de- 
pended. 

As he stepped upon the platform that afternoon 
and faced the assembled thousands who were shout- 
ing themselves hoarse in their efforts to do him 
honor, there was an expression resting on his 
face that none had ever seen there before, and 
which no one but the dark-eyed maiden standing 
but a few feet away could comprehend. Slowly 
and calmly his eyes swept over the mighty throng 
and something in the calm, heroic expression of his 
face stilled the wild tumult of the enthusiastic 
multitude and awed them into a strange and in- 


Satan of the Modern World. 275 

comprehensible silence. What did it all mean? 
was the thought in every mind and the unspoken 
question that arose to every mute and silent lip. 
Prom the silent form upon the platform they 
looked at one another, then back to the orator 
again, while the deep silence grew more and more 
intense. 

At length he spoke, and his voice rang out on 
the stillness of the air like the morning song of 
the lark in its first magnificent outburst. 

But in the tones of his voice there, too, was 
something sad and pathetic, some deep emotion 
underlying it, something they had never known, 
never heard before. Why was it? Again they 
..looked at one another enquiringly. And why did 
he plead so earnestly and pathetically for them to 
support the administration and elect, as far as lay 
within their power, a house and senate that would 
sympathize with and support the President’s pol- 
icy ? Why did he plead so long and earnestly, en- 
deavoring to impress upon their minds the ex- 
treme necessity of continuing along the same line 
of policy pursued by the party since its return to 
power? Were they not going to elect him, and 
had they not time after time proven their loyalty 
both to him and the party ? He then spoke of the 
moral status of the law makers, and made an 
eloquent plea for men of a higher moral stand- 
ard than some who had been exalted to high 
honors and positions of trust in the past, saying 
that none but men of high moral standard should 
be eligible to become law makers of the Repub- 
lic, men who had proven themselves mentally and 
morally worthy of high honors. 


276 Satan of the Modern World. 

He then called their attention to that clause of 
the constitution which declares that “no religious 
test shall be required of any man as a qualifica- 
tion for any office of public trust,” and urged upon 
them the extreme necessity of honesty in a can- 
didate before the suffrage of the people was placed 
in his hands. 

Cicero pleading before the tribunals of ancient 
Rome for justice to the poor and oppressed never 
made a more fervent plea, a more sublime effort 
than did Harry Brown pleading for a higher 
standard of citizenship. 

It was a noble plea, and sank deep into the 
hearts of those before him. 

He paused to note the effect of his words, and 
a smile broke for an instant over his face when 
he saw that they were too deeply affected even to 
applaud. But the smile faded almost as quickly 
as it came, and his face became more sad and seri- 
ous than before. 

“I have,” he said, “a painful duty to perform, a 
duty which deep in my heart I wish had never 
{fallen to the lot of mortal man. But, alas ! it has, 
and often. 

“Painful as it is, and sad as are the consequences 
that inevitably have followed in its wake, it has 
confronted many men in all ages, though seldom 
has it been performed, for few are they who are 
equal to the task, or care to suffer the consequences 
it entails. Why ? Turn back over the bloody pages 
of history and read the past as it is written there, 
pages that are written in blood and fire, the fires 
of bigotry and intolerance, and the blood of a 
million martyr-philosophers and philanthropists. 


Satan of the Modern World. 277 

and the answer there recorded will tell you 'more 
eloquently than words of mine why a solemn duty 
has seldom been performed. It is because it 
brings nothing but defeat, dishonor, persecu- 
tion, exile, and often death, and few are 
they who care to drink a cup that is filled to the 
brim with bitterness and woe. 

“Christ drank the cup and died upon Calvary, 
a living sacrifice to the avarice and hate of Juda- 
ism, a religion He sought to reform and bring 
back to the original purity of its founders. 

“Such was the fate of Christ and others, who 
performed their duty in the past, and in our own 
day we have seen Ingersoll barred out from the 
highest office in the land — an office for which his 
splendid talents fitted him more than any other in 
the history of the nation — for no other reason 
than that he refused to sell his manhood. Can 
we wonder, then, that men aspire to, and are 
elected to office, to whom manhood and honor are 
unknown? Can we wonder that the legislative 
bodies of our land are filled with pious frauds, 
hypocrites, pretenders, and seducers? How can 
it be otherwise when society offers them its richest 
gifts in exchange for their mental and moral hon- 
esty? Can we blame them for selling their souls 
to mammon? 

“How many are there here to-day who, in the 
face of these undisputable facts, confronted by 
two pathways of life, one leading to poverty, 
exile, obscurity, perhaps death, the other fame, 
wealth and worldly honor, will not choose the lat- 
ter even though manhood and self-respect must be 


278 Satan of the Modern World. 

sacrificed to gain it? Alas; they are few indeed, 
deplorably few. 

“ A few months ago in yonder church a rabid 
and fanatical preacher while making a vile and 
slanderous attack on my fair name used these 
words, ‘Satan is in the world to-day as surely as 
he was in the Garden of Eden/ to which I say 
amen. Satan is abroad in the world to-day, and 
here he will remain until expelled by the very 
ones by whom he was created. 

“Satan of the modern world is not ‘the serpent’ 
of the garden whom Genesis informs us to have 
been the most subtle beast of the field. Satan of 
the modern world is not the old serpent of John’s 
nightmare on Patmos, neither is it a spirit of 
evil permeating every part of the universe; but 
a creation of the social, political and religious con- 
ditions of the times. 

“Satan of the modern world is sometimes a 
greed for gold, but more often a lust for fame and 
power. It sometimes happens that a man will sell 
his soul for gold, but more often it is exchanged 
for fame and power where gold would be scorned 
were it offered alone. The world has no reward 
for a man of honor, yet it ever applauds one of 
splendid talents can he but mould them at will 
so as to conform to the absurdities of some popu- 
lar theology. 

“A man endowed with great intellectual power, 
with indisputable mental and moral honesty and 
a sincere belief in a popular creed, commands my 
admiration and respect, yet without the latter 
he can look for no favors from the world. 

“A year ago almost upon this very spot, I stood 


Satan of the Modem WorlcV 279 

before the world a man with a high sense of 
honor, proud of my spotless name and untarnished 
manhood, and in making a defence of my phi- 
losophy of life I drank the cup of bitterness 
poured out to me by the high priests of fanati- 
cism. I gave to the world my honest opinion con- 
cerning some of the problems of the day, and for- 
getting the noble monument of learning I had 
erected in your midst, forgetting the high 
esteem in which I had previously been held, 
regardless of the fact that I had labored 
among you with unselfish devotion and with no 
thought of reward except the good I might do my 
fellowmen, you did with me what you would do 
with Jesus Christ were He to come to earth again, 
meek and lowly as before, — you cast me out and de- 
spised me. 

“Such is the world’s reward for true manhood 
and womanhood. As an honest man there was no 
reward, no honor, not even respect for me. In 
the midst of the people I had sought to benefit I 
found myself deserted, friendless and alone. 

“Then it was that ‘Satan of the modern world’ 
came and tempted me. It seemed to me that the 
world hated true manhood, that it pursued honor 
and virtue with the relentlessness of a wild beast 
in search of prey; therefore, I did what millions 
of others have done, sold mine, and the reward is 
far in excess of anything of which I had ever 
dreamed. Behold what a wondrous change has 
been brought about. Aladdin with his wonderful 
lamp could have wrought no greater miracle. 
From an outcast, hated and despised by all, the 
doors of the nation’s most exclusive society have 


280 Satan of the Modern World. 


been opened to me, the highest offices of the land 
have been placed within my reach, the plaudits of 
the people are continually in my ears ; yet, strange 
to say, great as is the reward, it is not great enough 
to repay me for my lost soul, nor is the clamor 
of popular enthusiasm loud enough to drown the 
voice of conscience. So I bring you back your 
gifts and lay them at your feet, for I cannot ac- 
cept them under the conditions with which they 
were offered. 

“To surrender my opinions and my mental hon- 
esty, the whole universe if offered in exchange 
would be to me no temptation. Others may do so 
if they wish, but I have no longing for fame ex- 
cept when gained by fair and honest methods. 
Ambition is not dead within my breast, and I 
would be glad to represent you in Congress, could 
I do so honestly and conscientiously; but I can- 
not do it at the expense of my manhood and the 
loss of my own self-respect. 

“The matter is now in your hands, my friends, 
and before~you render your verdict, let me repeat 
the words I used here several months ago. I do not 
believe the Bible to be an inspired book, or that 
there is any God but nature. That, gentlemen, 
is, and always has been my belief concerning Chris- 
tianity. Nominate another in my place and I will 
labor as cheerfully and unselfishly for his suc- 
cess as for my own, but as for me, now and forever, 
I renounce my political aspirations.” 

He ceased speaking and looked out over the sea 
of faces before him to note again the effect of his 
words. Shame and regret were manifest on the 
faces of many, but not a word was spoken, for the 


Satan of the Modern World. 281 


blow bad fallen with the force of a thunderbolt, 
and quite as unexpected. The spirit of the meet- 
ing was broken, and the end of the political con- 
test on which so much depended loomed up in 
the distance, dark, dismal and disastrous. 

Before Harry, however, could leave the plat- 
form, the J udge sprang up the steps, stopped him 
and leading him back before the shame-faced and 
sorrowful sea of humanity, began addressing them 
in agitated tones : 

“Friends and neighbors,” he cried, “are you go- 
ing to let prejudice and passion dominate you to 
that extent that you will bring shame and dis- 
grace on the fair name of our village once more? 
You have dishonored yourselves once by disgrac- 
ing a noble and unselfish young man, are you go- 
ing to do it again? 

“For a man who has the courage and manhood 
to stand up before the world and cast aside the 
high honors he to-day has cast aside because they 
came not through honorable means, for a man 
endowed with such splendid gifts and sublime 
courage as Harry Brown has manifested to-day, 
I say there is no office in the gift of the Ameri- 
can people sufficiently great to reward him. 

“Such noble and unselfish manhood as he has 
personified with his life for three years past is 
seldom found and should be rewarded as far as 
lies within our power, and I want everyone here 
to say that they will support and use every honest 
means within their power to elect him. His tal- 
ents have been recognized by the greatest states- 
men of the land, who have been proud of the op- 
portunity of doing him honor, and for us to re- 


282 Satan of the Modem World. 


ject him now because he honestly differs from us 
on questions that are of no great importance to 
national politics would be but to bring everlast- 
ing disgrace upon us. Will you support and vote 
for him?” 

The shout that went up from every throat of 
that vast and mighty throng in favor of the candi- 
date was a sufficient and very satisfactory answer. 

It was like an old-fashioned Free Methodist 
camp meeting, each trying to shout louder and 
longer than all others, and everyone waiting for 
some one else to stop first. Just how long the up- 
roar might have lasted will never be known (they 
might have been shouting yet) for the tall, lank 
form of the Parson was seen at length ascending 
the platform, and out of mere curiosity to hear 
what a preacher would have to say on such an oc- 
casion, the pandemonium subsided temporarily. 
He made a short and spirited address, in which he 
told of the high esteem in which he had always held 
the young candidate from the date of their first 
meeting, how, when lying for long weeks in the val- 
ley of the shadow of death Harry had called on him 
daily — even after the whole village had turned 
against him he had continued to come, how he 
had furnished him with all the comforts and luxu- 
ries wealth could provide, and closed his brief re- 
marks by saying that he would support him on ac- 
count of his great love for humanity. 

This called forth another wild commotion and 
loud calls for a speech from Harry. As he stepped 
smilingly to the front of the platform to respond 
to the call the shrill voice of the Deacon was heard 
above the din and roar, shouting as only the Dea- 


Satan of the Modern World. 283 

con could shout, “111 vote fer the dum cuss any- 
way, an" I don’t care a gol dura who knows it 
either. He saved me from bein’ turned out o’ 
doors an’ that’s a heap site mor’n some 0 ’ the 
brother’n ud do !” 

That, of course, settled the whole difficulty (too 
bad he hadn’t thought of it a couple of years be- 
fore), and with a happy smile on his face Harry 
thanked them, saying that if it was their will that 
he should represent them in Congress as an honest 
man, he would be most happy to accept the high 
honor. 

As he came down from the platform he met 
Virginia, and her eyes were dim with happy tears. 
“My noble Harry,” she said, softly, “our dream of 
life has been realized at last; for philosophy has 
triumphed over bigotry.” 


284 Satan of the Modem .World, 


CHAPTEE XVII. 

THE HARVEST IS OVER, THE SUMMER IS ENDED. 

Our story — if such it may be called — is now 
nearing its end. The figures whom fancy has 
traced through these many pages have played the 
drama for which they were created to the end, 
their lives must pass out of ours forever, and the 
curtain of oblivion fall as it must before each and 
all, whether fancied or real. 

We have followed the career of Harry Brown 
through all the changing vicissitudes of life, its 
trials and temptations, its many successes and that 
final happiness which is the inevitable result of a 
life and habits such as he lived and advocated. 
From the mountain tops of hope and happiness 
we have seen him fall to the bottomless pit of 
human despair, while again, under circumstances 
which would have crushed a weaker soul than his 
beneath its weight, we have seen him rise to the 
topmost pinnacle of fame and power, occupying 
the most exalted positions of trust ; yet never once 
did he betray the trust reposed in him or abuse 
it, unless for the benefit of his fellow-beings. 

Such a man was Harry Brown, philosopher, 
philanthropist, dreamer and statesman. Of the 
stern Puritanical people with whom he cast his lot 


[Satan of the Modern World. 285 

when he withdrew from the pleasures and gayeties 
of the great world, gladly would we say as much 
for them, but, alas, that truthfully cannot be said. 
The training and environment of youth had not 
fitted them for that high mental plane from which 
they could accord justice and charity to men of all 
races and creeds, and only a man of superhuman 
genius, and endowed with a great love for human- 
ity, could break the bonds of prejudice that bound 
them to the uncompromising faith of their ances- 
tors, and prove to them that Christianity and hu- 
manity are not bound together by inseparable 
bonds, and that morality can exist where Christi- 
anity and all its countless isms are unknown. 

Still, they say that “all's well that ends well," 
and certainly no one had greater cause to rejoice 
at the outcome of the village affair than Harry 
Brown himself. As had been foreseen by everyone, 
he was elected by a majority so great as to be vir- 
tually unanimous, and two days later an event 
took place which was of far more importance to 
him, for he and the fair Virginia were quietly 
united in marriage at the home of her parents. 
It had been intended to be a private affair, but it 
might as well have been made public, for by the 
time the Parson arose to perform the ceremony 
the lawn was filled with admiring friends, who, 
as the ceremony proceeded, could be heard steal- 
ing up to the porch, and no sooner had the words 
been spoken that made them man and wife than 
the door was burst open and the large, roomy house 
filled to overflowing. Each, as they came to shake 
hands with the happy couple and offer congratula- 
tions, brought some beautiful present, a token of 


286 Satan of the Modern IWorld. 


their affection for the fair young bride, and nearly 
an hour later, when the last one had passed out, 
the happy Virginia found herself half buried in 
the midst of the loving tributes which had been 
laid at her feet. The following week they went 
to make their home at Maple Lawn, and as soon 
as Harry could arrange his affairs they were to 
leave for a trip across the sea to beautiful Hono- 
lulu. 

Reverend James Thornwaite came in one even- 
ing, as Harry and Virginia were sitting before 
the cheerful fireplace, and the expression which 
rested on his face was a strange mixture of doubt 
and determination. They bade him a hearty wel- 
come and drew a chair up before the fire for him, 
and there chatted for some time. 

“You seem to be one of fortune’s favorites, 
Harry,” he said at length. 

The only answer he received was a happy smile. 

“I need not speak of your talents,” continued 
the Parson, “nor those of your gifted bride, for 
you know as well as I that nature has been gener- 
ous to you both in that respect. But besides 
that you are more fortunate than the ordinary 
mortal. You are the fortunate possessor of wealth 
which has not spoilt you as it would many young 
men in your position, and with your physical and 
mental gifts, you have, without any apparent 
effort on your part, won unparalleled fame and 
popularity, a political power and prestige that 
will, if you so desire — and of course you do — 
place you in the White House four years hence.” 

“No,” was the frank reply, “I do not desire it, 
and only for one thing, the good of my country, 


Satan of the Modem World, 287 

I should not have accepted even a seat in Congress. 
As the political situation stands to-day there are 
questions of great importance coming up before 
the next Congress, questions of far-reaching re- 
sults which I hope will be dealt with wisely, con- 
servatively, and be successfully carried out. I 
want to see this great nation expand and grow, to 
be the proud possessor of a navy of the first magni- 
tude, to bind the oceans of the east and west with 
the connecting link under the control of our own 
government. I want to see the Stars and Stripes 
in every seaport and commercial center of the 
globe, and borne there by a great merchant marine. 
I want to see the distant isles of the Orient de- 
velop and grow into great commonwealths and one 
day take their place side by side with California, 
Montana and Utah. The foundation of all this na- 
tional greatness will, I hope, be laid by the incom- 
ing Congress, therefore, one term in Washington 
will end forever my political career. But you, my 
reverend friend, I suppose you will continue on at 
the village as before ?” 

“I don’t know about that,” said the Parson, 
shaking his head dubiously; “I hardly think so, 
however.” 

“Have you had another call?” 

“No !” with the same dubious shake of the head. 

Harry looked at him enquiringly and begged for 
an explanation. The Parson shifted uneasily in 
his chair for a moment, then with a feeble attempt 
at a laugh, replied : 

“Well, Harry, there’s no use beating about the 
bush, so, to make a long story short and define my 
position, clearly* it is sufficient for me to say that 


288 Satan of the Modem World. 

I have flopped completely over to your way of 
thinking. You are surprised? Well, you need not 
be, for the ‘flop’ is of no recent date. It dates 
back in fact almost to the day on which I was fool- 
ish enough to call on you for the purpose of con- 
verting you to Christianity. My faith in the 
Christian scheme of salvation received a rude 
shock that day, not so much by what you said as 
the example you were setting before the world. 
Previously I had supposed the word ‘infidel’ to be 
synonymous with Satan, and believed the same ap- 
plied to all who bore the name. Instead of the 
evil-minded wretch I had expected I found a man- 
nerly and thoughtful young man who was cultured 
to a high degree, and who, to all appearances, was 
more honorable and charitable than the majority 
of professed Christians. That naturally set me to 
thinking, and when you remarked that you were 
open to conviction, I asked myself why should I 
not be the same ? Day after day, unknown to you, 
I have sat here in your library, reading books I 
have never seen before, and pondering over prob- 
lems which from my earliest childhood I had been 
taught to avoid as being dangerous to the welfare 
of the soul. The interest thus aroused was all the 
more stimulated when Virginia came home and I 
learned that she, too, held the same views con- 
cerning religion as yourself. 

“Could it be possible, thought I, that the bright- 
est, the most thoughtful and the most charitable 
of the whole community could be mistaken when 
the stanchest supporters of the church were often 
the most ignorant ? It could not be. I could not 
convince myself that she, a model of virtue and 


Satan of the Modern World. 289 

womanly grace, the personification of wisdom, 
coud be mistaken in her philosophy of life. But 
other influences were at work. Whose hands were 
those that ministered to my wants with loving ten- 
derness when I lay for long weeks close to the 
valley of death? Were they the hands of those 
who preach a crucified Christ? Who daily repeat 
the command to ‘Love thy neighbor as thyself? 
No, it was those only whose creed is Love for Hu- 
manity. The Brethren were very lavish with their 
prayers for my recovery, hut the prayer of the 
Infidel was of a substantial nature, for it fed and 
clothed and warmed me and kept the ‘lone howl of 
the wolf from the door/ 

“It was then I asked myself, What has religion 
done to lead the people of the village to a higher, 
nobler and more useful plane of life? I could 
think of nothing, and when the library was es- 
tablished, an institution destined to lead our peo- 
ple to a higher and more useful sphere of existence 
and add to our limited storehouse of knowledge, 
that, too, was accomplished by those who recog- 
nized in nature the only God, and in happiness 
the only good.” 

“Then you are determined to leave the church ?” 
asked Harry. 

“I hardly know as yet. If s torture to remain 
where I am, trying to preach something I do not 
believe, ifs a case of starvation to leave, and I 
hardly know which is the greater evil of the two. 
I would have severed my connection with the 
church months ago only for my family. My salary 
has always been small and my family large, and 
I have never been able to save anything, conse- 


290 Satan of the Modem World. 

quently I am as poor to-day as when I first entered 
the pulpit. I cannot sit down and see my children 
starve, and what to do I do not know. Perhaps, 
Harry, you can advise me in some way, and to be 
frank, that is why I came up here to-night. It is 
useless to talk of what might have been, still, had 
I never taken a fancy to the ministry I believe I 
could have provided for my family far better than 
I have done, and my life would not have been the 
miserable failure it is.” 

Harry thought the matter over for a moment, 
then asked: 

“Are you afraid of work V s 

“Ho. The hardest work you could impose on 
me would be play compared to the agony I have 
suffered for the last few months. I will do any- 
thing to support my children, anything but be a 
hypocrite.” 

“Then I will give you an opportunity of earn- 
ing a living from which you can educate your 
children and accumulate something for old age. 
I have a splendid piece of land from which I de- 
rive no benefit, nor do I expect to derive any for 
years to come, if ever. It is the land which I 
bought from Deacon Thompson over in the valley, 
and were I to improve it as I should like to do it 
would only be at a great expense. Now, if you will 
take charge of that land and improve it according 
to my ideas, and only at spare times, and look after 
this place in a general sort of a way for the next 
two years, I will give you a lease of it to be ex- 
tended from time to time as long as you live. I 
am going away in a few days, but before that time 
I will contract for a cottage to be complete in two 


Satan of the Modem World. 291 

months, at which time yon may take possession, 
and anything yon may need in the way of pro- 
visions can be found in the cellar, bnt yon may 
keep account of the amount taken and replace it 
!at some future day, as it belongs to the boys, not 
me. Will such arrangements be satisfactory to 
you ?” 

Tears stood in the Preacher’s eyes as he arose 
to go. "If there is a God in the universe,” he said 
in trembling tones, "I pray that his blessing may 
rest upon your heads and follow you through life, 
my noble, generous children.” 

A few days later, after having made all neces- 
sary arrangements as to the new house and im- 
provements to be made thereon, Harry and Vir- 
ginia took their departure, starting on the long 
journey that was to take them over the sea to their 
beautiful island home. Across the continent our 
fancy follows them and a few days later they board 
the great ship that is to bear them away from us 
and out of our lives forever. Through the bright 
vision of fancy we see them glide through the 
placid waters of the bay, out through the broad 
channel of the Golden Gate, then, as the great 
ship begins to rise and fall on the swells of the 
mighty deep we catch a glimpse of Virginia’s 
dark clustering curls as they ripple in the ocean 
breeze, then as the ship fades slowly, slowly from 
our sight there comes back to us, borne on fancy’s 
wing, the softly whispered words : "Farewell, fare- 
well forever.” 


THE END. 


DEC 19 '904, 



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